The Complete Life of John Hopkins

by O. Henry

　　

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There is a saying that no man has tasted the fullflavor of life until he has known poverty, love andwar. The justness of this reflection commends it tothe lover of condensed philosophy. The three condi-tions embrace about all there is in life worth knowing.A surface thinker might deem that wealth should beadded to the list. Not so. When a poor man finds along-bidden quarter-dollar that has slipped througha rip into his vest lining, be sounds the pleasure oflife with a deeper plummet than any millionaire canhope to cast. It seems that the wise executive power that ruleslife has thought best to drill man in these three con-ditions; and none may escape all three. In ruralplaces the terms do not mean so much. Poverty isless pinching; love is temperate; war shrinks to con-tests about boundary lines and the neighbors' hens.It is in the cities that our epigram gains in truth andvigor; and it has remained for one John Hopkins tocrowd the experience into a rather small space oftime. The Hopkins flat was like a thousand others.There was a rubber plant in one window; a flea-bitten terrier sat in the other, wondering when hewas to have his day. John Hopkins was like a thousand others. Heworked at $20 per week in a nine-story, red-brickbuilding at either Insurance, Buckle's Hoisting En-gines, Chiropody, Loans, Pulleys, Boas Renovated,Waltz Guaranteed in Five Lessons, or ArtificialLimbs. It is not for us to wring Mr. Hopkins's avo-cation from these outward signs that be. Mrs. Hopkins was like a thousand others. Theauriferous tooth, the sedentary disposition, the Sun-day afternoon wanderlust, the draught upon thedelicatessen store for home-made comforts, thefuror for department store marked-down sales, thefeeling of superiority to the lady in the third-floorfront who wore genuine ostrich tips and had twonames over her bell, the mucilaginous hours duringwhich she remained glued to the window sill, the vigi-lant avoidance of the instalment man, the tirelesspatronage of the acoustics of the dumb-waiter shaft- all the attributes of the Gotham flat-dweller werehers. One moment yet of sententiousness and the storymoves. In the Big City large and sudden things happen.You round a corner and thrust the rib of your um-brella into the eye of your old friend from KootenaiFalls. You stroll out to pluck a Sweet William in thepark - and lo! bandits attack you - you are am-bulanced to the hospital - you marry your nurse;are divorced - get squeezed while short on U. P. S.and D. 0. W. N. S. - stand in the bread line - marryan heiress, take out your laundry and pay your clubdues - seemingly all in the wink of an eye. Youtravel the streets, and a finger beckons to you, ahandkerchief is dropped for you, a brick is droppedupon you, the elevator cable or your bank breaks, atable d'hote or your wife disagrees with you, and Fatetosses you about like cork crumbs in wine opened byan un-feed waiter. The City is a sprightly young-ster, and you are red paint upon its toy, and you getlicked off. John Hopkins sat, after a compressed dinner, inhis glove-fitting straight-front flat. He sat upon ahornblende couch and gazed, with satiated eyes, atArt Brought Home to the People in the shape of"The Storm " tacked against the wall. Mrs. Hop-kins discoursed droningly of the dinner smells fromthe flat across the ball. The flea-bitten terrier gaveHopkins a look of disgust, and showed a man-hatingtooth. Here was neither poverty, love, nor war; but uponsuch barren stems may be grafted those essentials ofa complete life. John Hopkins sought to inject a few raisins ofconversation into the tasteless dough of existence. "Putting a new elevator in at the office," he said,discarding the nominative noun, "and the boss hasturned out his whiskers." "You don't mean it! commented Mrs. Hopkins. "Mr. Whipples," continued John, "wore his newspring suit down to-day. I liked it fine It's a graywith - " He stopped, suddenly stricken by a needthat made itself known to him. "I believe I'll walkdown to the corner and get a five-cent cigar,"heconcluded. John Hopkins took his bat aid picked his waydown the musty halls and stairs of the flat-house The evening air was mild, and the streets shrillwith the careless cries of children playing games con-trolled by mysterious rhythms and phrases. Theirelders held the doorways and steps with leisurely pipeand gossip. Paradoxically, the fire-escapes sup-ported lovers in couples who made no attempt to flythe mounting conflagration they were there to fan.The corner cigar store aimed at by John Hopkinswas kept by a man named Freshmayer, who lookedupon the earth as a sterile promontory. Hopkins, unknown in the store, entered and calledgenially for his "bunch of spinach, car-fare grade."This imputation deepened the pessimism of Fresh-mayer; but be set out a brand that came perilouslynear to filling the order. Hopkins bit off the roots ofhis purchase, and lighted up at the swinging gasjet. Feeling in his pockets to make payment, hefound not a penny there. "Say, my friend," he explained, frankly, "I'vecome out without any change. Hand you that nickelfirst time I pass." Joy surged in Freshmayer's heart. Here was cor-roboration of his belief that the world was rotten andman a peripatetic evil. Without a word he roundedthe end of his counter and made earnest onslaughtupon his customer. Hopkins was no man to serve asa punching-bag for a pessimistic tobacconist. Hequickly bestowed upon Freshmayer a Colorado-maduro eye in return for the ardent kick that bereceived from that dealer in goods for cash only. The impetus of the enemy's attack forced theHopkins line back to the sidewalk. There the con-flict raged; the pacific wooden Indian, with hiscarven smile, was overturned, and those of the streetwho delighted in carnage pressed round to view thezealous joust. But then came the inevitable cop and imminentconvenience for both the attacker and attacked.John Hopkins was a peaceful citizen, who worked atrebuses of nights in a flat, but be was not without thefundamental spirit of resistance that comes with thebattle-rage. He knocked the policeman into a gro-cer's sidewalk display of goods and gave Freshmayera punch that caused him temporarily to regret thathe had not made it a rule to extend a five-cent lineof credit to certain customers. Then Hopkins tookspiritedly to his heels down the sidewalk, closely fol-lowed by the cigar-dealer and the policeman, whoseuniform testified to the reason in the grocer's signthat read: "Eggs cheaper than anywhere else inthe city." As Hopkins ran he became aware of a big, low,red, racing automobile that kept abreast of him inthe street. This auto steered in to the side of thesidewalk, and the man guiding it motioned to Hopkinsto jump into it. He did so without slackening hisspeed, and fell into the turkey-red upholstered seatbeside the chauffeur. The big machine, with a dimin-uendo cough, flew away like an albatross down theavenue into which the street emptied. The driver of the auto sped his machine without aword. He was masked beyond guess in the gogglesand diabolic garb of the chauffeur. "Much obliged, old man," called Hopkins, grate-fully. "I guess you've got sporting blood in you,all right, and don't admire the sight of two mentrying to soak one. Little more and I'd have beenpinched." The chauffeur made no sign that he had heard.Hopkins shrugged a shoulder and chewed at hiscigar, to which his teeth had clung grimly through-out the melee. Ten minutes and the auto turned into the opencarriage entrance of a noble mansion of brown stone,and stood still. The chauffeur leaped out, and said:"Come quick. The lady, she will explain. It isthe great honor you will have, monsieur. Ah, thatmilady could call upon Armand to do this thing!But, no, I am only one chauffeur." With vehement gestures the chauffeur conductedHopkins into the house. He was ushered into a smallbut luxurious reception chamber. A lady, young, andpossessing the beauty of visions, rose from a chair.In her eyes smouldered a becoming anger. Her high-arched, threadlike brows were ruffled into a deliciousfrown. "Milady," said the chauffeur, bowing low, "I havethe honor to relate to you that I went to the house ofMonsieur Long and found him to be not at home. AsI came back I see this gentleman in combat againstbow you say - greatest odds. He is fighting withfive - ten - thirty men - gendarmes, aussi. Yes,milady, he what you call 'swat' one - three - eightpolicemans. If that Monsieur Long is out I say tomyself this Gentleman be will serve milady so well, andI bring him here." "Very well, Armand," said the lady, "you maygo." She turned to Hopkins. "I sent my chauffeur," she said, "to bring mycousin, Walter Long. There is a man in this housewho has treated me with insult and abuse. I havecomplained to my aunt, and she laughs at me. Ar-mand says you are brave. In these prosaic days menwho are both brave and chivalrous are few. May Icount upon your assistance?" John Hopkins thrust the remains of his cigar intohis coat pocket. He looked upon this winningcreature and felt his first thrill of romance. It was aknightly love, and contained no disloyalty to the flatwith the flea-bitten terrier and the lady of his choice.He bad married her after a picnic of the Lady LabelStickers' Union, Lodge No. 2, on a dare and a bet ofnew hats and chowder all around with his friend, BillyMcManus. This angel who was begging him tocome to her rescue was something too heavenly forchowder, and as for hats - golden, jewelled crownsfor her! "Say," said John Hopkins, "just show me the guythat you've got the grouch at. I've neglected mytalents as a scrapper heretofore, but this is my busynight." "He is in there," said the lady, pointing to aclosed door. "Come. Are you sure that you do notfalter or fear?" "Me?" said John Hopkins. "Just give me one ofthose roses in the bunch you are wearing, will you?" The lady gave him a red, red rose. John Hopkinskissed it, stuffed it into his vest pocket, opened thedoor and walked into the room. It was a handsomelibrary, softly but brightly lighted. A young manwas there, reading. "Books on etiquette is what you want to study,"said John Hopkins, abruptly. "Get up here, and I'llgive you some lessors. Be rude to a lady, will you?" The young man looked mildly surprised. Then hearose languidly, dextrously caught the arms of JohnHopkins and conducted him irresistibly to the frontdoor of the house. "Beware, Ralph Branscombe," cried the lady, whohad followed, "what you do to the gallant man whohas tried to protect me." The young man shoved John Hopkins gently outthe door and then closed it. "Bess," he said calmly, "I wish you would quitreading historical novels. How in the world did thatfellow get in here?" "Armand brought him," said the young lady. "Ithink you are awfully mean not to let me have thatSt. Bernard. I sent Armand for Walter. I was soangry with you." "Be sensible, Bess," said the young man, takingher arm. "That dog isn't safe. He has bitten twoor three people around the kennels. Come now, let'sgo tell auntie we are in good humor again." Arm in arm, they moved away. John Hopkins walked to his flat. The janitor'sfive-year-old daughter was playing on the steps'Hopkins gave her a nice, red rose and walked up-stairs. Mrs. Hopkins was philandering with curl-papers. "Get your cigar?" she asked, disinterestedly. "Sure," said Hopkins, "and I knocked around awhile outside. It's a nice night." He sat upon the hornblende sofa, took out thestump of his cigar, lighted it, and gazed at the grace-ful figures in "The Storm" on the opposite wall. "I was telling you," said he, "about Mr.Whipple's suit. It's a gray, with an invisible check,and it looks fine."

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