ing in the style of
even James Branch Cabell. It is frankly "in the manner of" those ancient
authors whose works are sold surreptitiously to college students by
gentlemen who whisper their selling-talk behind a line of red sample
bindings. And it is not in the manner of Rabelais, although Rabelais's
name has been frequently used in describing "Jurgen." Rabelais seldom
hid his thought behind two meanings. There was only one meaning, and you
could take it or leave it. And Rabelais would never have said "Honi
soit" by way of defense.

The general effect is one of Fielding or Sterne telling the story of
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, with their own embellishments, to the
boys at the club.

* * * * *

If all that is necessary to produce a work of art is to take a drummer's
story and tell it in dusty English, we might try our luck with the
modern smoking-car yarn about the traveling-man who came to the country
hotel late at night, and see how far we can get with it in the manner of
James Branch Cabell imitating Fielding imitating someone else.

* * * * *

It is a tale which they narrate in Nouveau Rochelle, saying: In the old
days there came one night a traveling man to an inn, and the night was
late, and he was sore beset, what with rag-tag-and-bob-tail. Eftsoons he
made known his wants to the churl behind the desk, who was named
Gogyrvan. And thus he spake:

"Any rooms?"

"Indeed, sir, no," was Gogyrvan's glose.

"Now but this is an deplorable thing, God wot," says the traveling man.
"Fie, brother, but you think awry. Come, don smart your thinking-cap and
answer me again. An' you have forgot my query; it was: 'Any rooms,
bo?'"

Whereat the churl behind the desk gat him down from his stool and closed
one eye in a wink.

"There is one room," he says, and places his forefinger along the side
of his nose, in the manner of a man who places his forefinger along the
side of his nose.

But at this point I am stopped short by the warning passage through the
room of a cold, damp current of air as from the grave, and I know that
it is one of Mr. Sumner's vice deputies flitting by on his rounds in
defense of the public morals. So I can go no further, for public morals
must be defended even at the cost of public morality (a statement which
means nothing but which sounds rather well, I think. I shall try to work
it in again some time).

But perhaps enough ha