For instance, in moral matters Mr. Chang Riley was always dynamo, Mr. Eng Nye was always motor; for while Mr. Chang Riley had a high—­in fact, an abnormally high and fine moral sense, he had no machinery to work it with; whereas, Mr. Eng Nye, who hadn’t any moral sense at all, and hasn’t yet, was equipped with all the necessary plant for putting a noble deed through, if he could only get the inspiration on reasonable terms outside.

In intellectual matters, on the other hand, Mr. Eng Nye was always dynamo, Mr. Chang Riley was always motor; Mr. Eng Nye had a stately intellect, but couldn’t make it go; Mr. Chang Riley hadn’t, but could.  That is to say, that while Mr. Chang Riley couldn’t think things himself, he had a marvellous natural grace in setting them down and weaving them together when his pal furnished the raw material.

Thus, working together, they made a strong team; laboring together, they could do miracles; but break the circuit, and both were impotent.  It has remained so to this day:  they must travel together, hoe, and plant, and plough, and reap, and sell their public together, or there’s no result.

I have made this explanation, this analysis, this vivisection, so to speak, in order that you may enjoy these delightful adventurers understandingly.  When Mr. Eng Nye’s deep and broad and limpid philosophies flow by in front of you, refreshing all the regions round about with their gracious floods, you will remember that it isn’t his water; it’s the other man’s, and he is only working the pump.  And when Mr. Chang Riley enchants your ear, and soothes your spirit, and touches your heart with the sweet and genuine music of his poetry—­as sweet and as genuine as any that his friends, the birds and the bees, make about his other friends, the woods and the flowers—­you will remember, while placing justice where justice is due, that it isn’t his music, but the other man’s—­he is only turning the crank.

I beseech for these visitors a fair field, a singleminded, one-eyed umpire, and a score bulletin barren of goose-eggs if they earn it—­and I judge they will and hope they will.  Mr. James Whitcomb Chang Riley will now go to the bat.

DINNER TO WHITELAW REID

          Addressat the dinner in honor of ambassador Reid, given by the
          pilgrims’ club of new York on February 19, 1908

I am very proud to respond to this toast, as it recalls the proudest day of my life.  The delightful hospitality shown me at the time of my visit to Oxford I shall cherish until I die.  In that long and distinguished career of mine I value that degree above all other honors.  When the ship landed even the stevedores gathered on the shore and gave an English cheer.  Nothing could surpass in my life the pleasure of those four weeks.  No one could pass by me without taking my hand, even the policemen.  I’ve been in all the principal capitals of Christendom in my life, and have always been an object of interest to policemen.  Sometimes there was suspicion in their eyes, but not always.  With their puissant hand they would hold up the commerce of the world to let me pass.