Olympian Nights Part 6

"A very useful function that, Sambo; and where were you born?" I asked. "North Carolina, or Georgia?"

"Me?" he replied, looking at me quizzically. "I guess yo's on'y foolin', ma.s.sa. Me? Why, I 'ain't never been borned at all, sah--"

"Jess growed, eh--like Topsy?" I asked.

"Who dat, Topsy?" he demanded.

"Oh, she was a little n.i.g.g.e.r girl that became very famous," I explained.

"Doan' know nuffin' 'bout no Topsy," he said, shaking his head. "We ain' n.i.g.g.e.rs, eider, yo' know, me an' him ain't. We's statulary."

"What?" I cried. The word seemed new.

"Statulary," he continued. "We was carved, we was. There ain't nothin'

borned 'bout us. Never knowed who pap was. Man jess took a lot o'

mahble, he did, an' chiselled me an' him out."

I eyed both boys closely and perceived that in all probability he spoke the truth. His flesh and dress had all of the texture of marble, but now the question came up as to the gift of speech and movement and the marvellous and graceful flexibility of their limbs.

"You can't fool me, Sambo," said I. "You're nothing but a very good-looking little n.i.g.g.e.r. You can't make me believe that you are another Galatea."

"Doan' no nuffin' 'bout no gal's tears," he returned instantly. "But I done tole yo' de truf. Me an' him was chiselled out o' brack marble by pap. Ef we'd been borned we'd been n.i.g.g.ahs sho' nuff, but bein'

carvin's, like I tole yuh, we's statulary."

"But how does it come that if you are only statuary, you can move about, and talk, and breathe?" I demanded.

"Yo'll have to ask mistah Joop'ter 'bout dat," the boy answered. "He done gave us dese gif's, an' we's a-usin' ob 'em. De way it happened was like o' dis. Me an' him was a standin' upon a petterstal down in one o' dem mahble yards what dey calls gall'ries in Paris. We'd been sent dah by de man what done chiselled us, an' Joop'ter he came 'long wid Miss' Juno an' when he seed us he said: 'Dare you is, Juno! Dem boys'll make mighty good b.u.t.tonses foh de hotel.' Juno she laffed, an'

said dat was so, on'y she couldn't see as we had many b.u.t.tons. 'Would you like to have 'em?' Joop'ter ast, and she said 'suttinly.' So he tu'ned hisself into a 'Merican millionaire an' bought me an' him off 'n de manager, an' he had us sent here. All dat time we was nuffin'

but mahble figgers, but soon's we arrived here, Joop'ter sent us up-stairs to de lab'ratory, an' fust ting me an' him knowed we was livin' bein's."

I admired Jupiter's taste, not failing either to marvel at the wonderful power which only once before, as far as I knew, he had exerted to give to a bit of sculpture all the flush and glory of life, as in the case set forth in the pathetic tale of Pygmalion and Galatea.

"And does he do this sort of thing often?" I inquired.

"Ya.s.s indeedy," said Sambo. "He's doin' it all de time. Mos' ob de help in dis hotel is statulary, an' ef yo' wants to see a reel lively time 'foh yo' goes back home, go to de Zoo an' see 'em feed de Trojan Hoss, an' de Cardiff Giant. He brang bofe dem freaks to life, an' now he can't get rid ob 'em. Dat Trojan Hoss suttinly am a berry debbil.

He stans up gentle as a lamb tell he gets about a hundred an' fifty people inside o' him, an' den he p'tends like he's gwine to run away, an' he cyanters, an' cyanters aroun', tell ebberybody's dat seasick dey can't res'."

I resolved then and there to see the Trojan Horse, but not to get inside of him. I never before had suspected that the famous beast had a sense of humor in his makeup. I was about to make some further inquiry when a bell above us began to sound forth sonorously.

"Ma.s.sy me!" cried little Sambo, springing to his place in front of the chair. "Dat's de third an' la.s.s call for breakfas'. We done spent too much time talkin'."

With which observation, he and his companion, shouldering their burden, trotted along the richly furnished hall to the dining-room. I then observed a charming feature of life in the Olympian Hotel, and I presume it obtains elsewhere in that favored spot. There are no such things as stairs within its walls. From the magnificent office on the ground floor to the glorious dining-room on the forty-eighth, the broad corridor runs round and round and round again with an upward incline that is barely perceptible--indeed, not perceptible at all either to the eye or to the muscles of the leg. And while there are the most speedy elevators connecting all the various floors, one can, if one chooses, walk from cellar to roof of this marvellous place without realizing that he is mounting to an unusual elevation. And in the evening these corridors form a magnificent parade, brilliantly lighted, upon which are to be met all the wealth, beauty, and fashion of Olympus--alas! that I have no means of returning there with certain of my friends with whom I would share the good things that have come into my life!

But to return to the story. Sambo and his brother soon "toted" me to the entrance of the dining-room--graceful little beggars they were, too.

"Your breakfast is ready, sir," said the head waiter, bowing low.

What impelled me to do so I shall never know, but it was an inspiration. I seemed to recognize the man at once, and, as I had frequently done on earth to my own advantage, I addressed him by name.

"Having a good season, Memnon?" I said, slipping a silver dollar into his hand.

It worked. Whether I should have found the same excellent service had I not spoken pleasantly to him I, of course, cannot say, but I have never been so well cared for elsewhere. The captious reader may ask how anything so essentially worldly as a silver dollar ever crept into Olympus. I can only say that one of the magic properties of the garment I wore was that whatever I put my hand into my pocket for, I got. As a travelled American, realizing the potency under similar conditions of that heavy and ugly coin, I instinctively sought for it in my pocket and it was there. I do not attempt to explain the process of its getting there. It suffices to say that, as the guest of the G.o.ds, my every wish was met with speedy attainment. I could not help but marvel, too, at the appropriateness of everything. What better than that the King of the Ethiopians should be head waiter to the G.o.ds!

"Things are never dull here, sir," said Memnon, pocketing my dollar and escorting me to my table. "We do not often have visitors like yourself, however, and we are very glad to see you."

I sat down before a magnificent window which seemed to open out upon a universe hitherto undreamed of.

"Do you wish the news, sir?" Memnon asked, respectfully.

"Yes," said I. "Ah--news from home, Memnon," I added.

"Political or merely family?" said he.

"Family," said I.

Memnon busied himself about the window and in a moment, gazing through it, I had the pleasure of seeing my two boys eating their supper and challenging each other to mortal combat over a delinquent strawberry resting upon the tablecloth.

"Give me a little politics, Memnon," said I, as the elder boy thrashed the younger, not getting the strawberry, however, which in a quick moment, between blows, the younger managed to swallow. "They seem to be about as usual at home."

And I was immediately made aware of the intentions of the administration at Washington merely by looking through a window. There were the President and his cabinet and--some others who a.s.sist in making up the mind of the statesman.

"Now a dash of crime," said I.

"High or low?" asked Memnon, fingering the push-b.u.t.ton alongside of the window.

"The highest you've got," said I.

I shall not describe what I saw. It was not very horrible. It was rather discouraging. It dealt wholly with the errors of what is known as Society. It showed the mistakes of persons for whom I had acquired a feeling of awe. It showed so much that I summoned Memnon to shut the gla.s.s off. I was really afraid somebody else might see. And I did not wish to lose my respect for people who were leaders in the highest walks of social life. Still, a great many things that have happened since in high life have not been wholly surprising to me. I have furthermore so ordered my own goings and comings since that time that I have no fear of what the Peeping Toms of Olympus may see. If mankind could only be made to understand that this window of Olympus opens out upon every act of their lives, there might be radical reforms in some quarters where it would do a deal of good, although to the general public there seems to be no need for it.

At this point a waiter put a small wafer about as large as a penny upon the table.

"H'm--what's that, Memnon?" I asked.

"Essence of melon," said he.

"Good, is it?" I queried.

"You might taste it and see, sir," he said, with a smile. "It is one of a lot especially prepared for Jupiter."

I put the thing in my mouth, and oh, the sensation that followed! I have eaten melons, and I have dreamed melons, but never in either experience was there to be found such an ecstasy of taste as I now got.

"Another, Memnon--another!" I cried.

"If you wish, sir," said he. "But very imprudent, sir. That wafer was constructed from six hundred of the choicest--"

"Quite right," said I, realizing the situation; "quite right. Six hundred melons _are_ enough for any man. What do you propose to give me now?"

"_Oeufs Midas_," said Memnon.