XVI
NEIGHBOR ROBBINS' PLATYPUS
I wish you knew Burr Robbins. It is quite likely, however, that you_do_ know him, for he has been conspicuously before the public for anumber of years. Mr. Robbins lives just across the way from the oldSchmittheimer place, and he has surrounded himself with comforts andluxuries of a most extraordinary character. He is a retired circusproprietor, and he has taken with him into retirement many of the moststartling features of the menagerie which used to figure as one of themost delectable component parts of the "absolutely greatestagglomeration of marvels exhibiting under one canvas."
In his front yard Mr. Robbins pastures two trained buffalo, a sacredcow, a gnu (or horned horse), two musk deer, a giraffe, a woolly horse,a five-legged calf and a moose. In the back yard there are two whitebear cubs, a baby elephant, a nest of pythons, half a dozen ostriches,a learned pig, several alligators and crocodiles, and a giant slothfrom South America. The stable is well stocked with monkeys, parrots,eagles, lizards, tortoises and other curiosities, and in the wateringtrough are a sea serpent and a mermaid (said to be the only specimensof these marvels in a domesticated state).
Alice expressed some anxiety at first that the proximity of the strangecreatures might prove unpleasant to us, and she strictly forbade littleErasmus associating with the pythons or pulling the crocodiles' tails.Mr. Robbins has assured us, however, that his pets are docile andtrustworthy, and it is his custom to invite the little children of theneighborhood to visit and play with the most tractable of them.
I got acquainted with neighbor Robbins in a rather curious manner. Hisplatypus escaped from its cage in the stable and sought refuge in ourfront yard. I discovered that it had made a nest in one of our lilacbushes and had laid an egg in it. With eggs at twenty cents a dozenand our family fond of custard, an industrious platypus is by no meansan unwelcome visitor. When Mr. Robbins came looking for his vagrantpet I suggested that a flock of platypuses would be a decidedimprovement upon the poultry with which the average farmer stocks hisfarm. I was considerably surprised to learn from Mr. Robbins that themarket price of platypuses is eight hundred dollars apiece, and I atonce foresaw that this strange creature was not likely to become thedreaded competitor of the hen in the midst of us.
Erasmus and little Josephine became deeply interested in Mr. Robbins,and they are now spending a large share of their time in the societyeither of that fascinating gentleman or of his equally fascinating wildbeasts. Erasmus has learned to throw a back-somersault with surprisingease and grace and to sing a comic song with electrical effect. Theseaccomplishments he has acquired under the careful tutelage of RufeBotts, formerly known to fame as Professor Botts, manager of theNonpareil Congress of Trained Dogs and Trick Ponies. I understand thathe also served Mr. Robbins in "the palmy days" as a clown in the ringduring the regular performance and as a serio-comic vocalist at theconcert immediately after the show under the great canvas. Relentlesstime, however, rings in wondrous changes, and the whilom ProfessorRufus Botts, pride alike of the amphitheatre and of the concert stage,is now plain Rufe Botts on a salary of four dollars a week (and found)as Mr. Robbins' man of all work.
Alice and I have feared that Rufe's influence might not be beneficialto the children. It pains us to observe that Josephine has learned toride a padded horse and to leap with surprising certainty through ahoop and over a banner. Erasmus does not disguise his intention ofjoining a circus when he reaches the age of maturity, and I happened tooverhear Rufe remark the other day that our daughter Fanny, with just aleetle more practice, would make a ne plus ultra snake-charmer andknife-thrower. Mr. Robbins has laughed at our solicitude; he tells usthat these are the vagarious fancies and exuberant whims of youth andthat they will duly die out. This is really very consoling to me, forI can conceive of nothing else more humiliating than the spectacle ofour beloved Josephine flaunting around a circus ring upon the back of afat horse and attired in shockingly scanty raiment. It would break hismother's heart if Erasmus were to diverge from that course in theologywhich she has mapped out and were to embark in the picturesqueprofession of turning somersaults in public. Our family reputationwould surely be irreparably damaged if our Fanny were to be beguiledinto the fascinating but hazardous arts of a snake-charmer and aknife-thrower! Heaven send that our fears be dissipated by futureevents!
And yet, full of temptations and of misery as I believe the career of acircus performer to be, I am entertained and instructed by neighborRobbins' recital of his exploits and experiences, and I am deeplystirred by his narrative of the adventures he had in the capture ofthose same wild beasts which now embellish his expansive estate inClarendon Avenue. Indeed, a peculiar interest is now attached by me toeach particular beast, for I have heard Mr. Robbins tell how in theirnative jungles or on their native pampas or in their native lagoons oramong their native rocky fastnesses he sought and found andcomprehended the lemurs, the bisons, the alligators, the rackaboars,and the other marvels of zooelogy.
It is very pleasant, I can assure you, to listen to tales of adventurewhile one is engaged at the somewhat prosaic task of trimming a lilacbush or of weeding the pansy bed. Whenever he discovers me at thiskind of toil neighbor Robbins comes over and leans up against a treeand beguiles the tedium of labor with a bit of personal experience. Ican't begin to tell you how attached I have already become to Mr.Robbins. I have already made up my mind that when his own front lawngets pretty well cleaned out I shall ask neighbor Robbins to pasturehis sacred cow, horned horse, and five-legged calf in our front yardfor a spell.
I shall never forget the shock I had one afternoon while Mr. Robbinsand I were visiting on our front lawn. I had been pruning one of thepoplars and Mr. Robbins was telling me of the difficulty ProfessorRufus Botts and he had once had trying to teach the wild man of Borneoto eat olives and anchovy paste. Suddenly I saw a strange object passup the street on a bicycle. I had never seen the like before. Myacquaintance with Burr Robbins' menagerie had made me familiar withmost of the curious forms of animal life, but never before had I seenso remarkable an object as I beheld upon that bicycle.
"Look there! Look quick!" said I to neighbor Robbins. "It is going upthe street and it has wheels under it!"
"Where?" asked Mr. Robbins; "I don't see anything."
"Yes, you do," said I; "I mean the queer thing on the bicycle--can itbe one of your trained animals that has got away?"
"Bless your soul, man," answered Mr. Robbins, "that's not an animal!That's a woman!"
"Oh, no, it is n't," said I. "No woman ever dressed like that."
"No woman ever dressed like that?" echoed Mr. Robbins, with a mockinglaugh; "why, neighbor Baker, where have you been hiding so long thatyou 're so behind the times?"
"I 've not been hiding at all," said I, indignantly. "I 've beenliving in Evanston Avenue, and a very worthy locality it is, too!"
"And do you mean to tell me," asked Mr. Robbins, "that women don't ridethe bicycle in Evanston Avenue?"
"Of course they do," said I, "but they don't look like _that_! Thewomen that ride in Evanston Avenue wear dresses, the same as otherwomen wear. This strange object (which you declare is a woman) wearspants!"
"Those ain't pants," said Mr. Robbins; "those are bloomers."
"I don't care what you call them," said I, "they 're pants just thesame, and, what is more, very ill-fitting pants at that!"
"That," said Mr. Robbins, "is the new style of bicycle attire for thefeminine sex. Shocking as it may appear to you, it is much more amplethan the costume which I found to be popular among the femalebicyclists of France during my visit to that country last summer."
"But you don't mean to tell me," said I, "that women make a practice ofriding up and down Clarendon Avenue in pants!"
"Certainly, I do," said Mr. Robbins. "We do things in style over thisway. Evanston Avenue is a century behind the times. Oh, you 'll learna lot of things when you get moved over here into your new house."
"But I 'll n
ot stand it!" I cried. "I 'll inform the police and I 'llhave the law on these brazen creatures. What would Alice say! Andwhat would become of Fanny and of little Josephine if they were broughtup under the demoralizing influences of spectacles like that! Do yousuppose I 'm going to have Galileo and Herschel corrupted? And littleErasmus--shall his pure, innocent mind be contaminated? Never,neighbor Robbins, never!"
But Mr. Robbins did not seem to view the matter at all as I did. Itwas evident that his long connection with the circus had calloused thesensibility of his perceptive faculties. He was inclined to jeer atwhat he termed my prudishness. I was glad to be back in EvanstonAvenue once more, secure in an atmosphere of propriety. It was severalhours, however, before I could get my mind away from thoughts of thatwoman in pants, so profoundly had her appearance in that strangelyabbreviated costume shocked me.