The aphorism does really seem true:  “Given the Circumstances, the Man will appear.”  But the man musn’t appear ahead of time, or it will spoil everything.  In Robinson’s case the Moment had been approaching for a quarter of a century—­and meantime the future Conciliator was tranquilly laying bricks in Hobart.  When all other means had failed, the Moment had arrived, and the Bricklayer put down his trowel and came forward.  Earlier he would have been jeered back to his trowel again.  It reminds me of a tale that was told me by a Kentuckian on the train when we were crossing Montana.  He said the tale was current in Louisville years ago.  He thought it had been in print, but could not remember.  At any rate, in substance it was this, as nearly as I can call it back to mind.

A few years before the outbreak of the Civil War it began to appear that Memphis, Tennessee, was going to be a great tobacco entrepot—­the wise could see the signs of it.  At that time Memphis had a wharf boat, of course.  There was a paved sloping wharf, for the accommodation of freight, but the steamers landed on the outside of the wharfboat, and all loading and unloading was done across it, between steamer and shore.  A number of wharfboat clerks were needed, and part of the time, every day, they were very busy, and part of the time tediously idle.  They were boiling over with youth and spirits, and they had to make the intervals of idleness endurable in some way; and as a rule, they did it by contriving practical jokes and playing them upon each other.

The favorite butt for the jokes was Ed Jackson, because he played none himself, and was easy game for other people’s—­for he always believed whatever was told him.

One day he told the others his scheme for his holiday.  He was not going fishing or hunting this time—­no, he had thought out a better plan.  Out of his $40 a month he had saved enough for his purpose, in an economical way, and he was going to have a look at New York.

It was a great and surprising idea.  It meant travel immense travel—­in those days it meant seeing the world; it was the equivalent of a voyage around it in ours.  At first the other youths thought his mind was affected, but when they found that he was in earnest, the next thing to be thought of was, what sort of opportunity this venture might afford for a practical joke.

The young men studied over the matter, then held a secret consultation and made a plan.  The idea was, that one of the conspirators should offer Ed a letter of introduction to Commodore Vanderbilt, and trick him into delivering it.  It would be easy to do this.  But what would Ed do when he got back to Memphis?  That was a serious matter.  He was good-hearted, and had always taken the jokes patiently; but they had been jokes which did not humiliate him, did not bring him to shame; whereas, this would be a cruel one in that way, and to play it was to meddle with fire; for with all his good nature, Ed was a Southerner—­and the English of that was, that when he came back he would kill as many of the conspirators as he could before falling himself.  However, the chances must be taken—­it wouldn’t do to waste such a joke as that.