Chapter 1 - Page 2

These other gentlemen, however, I think, will
agree with me when I say that the mere fact that a canal-boat can be
moved about the country, and is in no sense a fixture anywhere, shows
that as a dwelling-place it is superior to a house. Take this house, for
instance. This neighborhood used to be the best in town. It is still far
from being the worst neighborhood in town, but it is, as it has been for
several years, deteriorating. The establishment of a Turkish bath on one
corner and a grocery-store on the other has taken away much of that air
of refinement which characterized it when the block was devoted to
residential purposes entirely. Now just suppose for a moment that this
street were a canal, and that this house were a canal-boat. The canal
could run down as much as it pleased, the neighborhood could deteriorate
eternally, but it could not affect the value of this house as the home of
refined people as long as it was possible to hitch up a team of horses to
the front stoop and tow it into a better locality. I'd like to wager
every man at this table that Mrs. Pedagog wouldn't take five minutes to
make up her mind to tow this house up to a spot near Central Park, if it
were a canal-boat and the streets were water instead of a mixture of
water, sand, and Belgian blocks."

"No takers," said the Bibliomaniac.

"Tutt-tutt-tutt," ejaculated Mr. Pedagog.

[Illustration: "THE NUISANCE OF HAVING TO PAY"]

"You seem to lose sight of another fact," said the Idiot, warming up to
his subject. "If man had had the sense in the beginning to adopt the
canal-boat system of life, and we were used to that sort of thing, it
would not be so hard upon us in summer-time, when we have to live in
hotels in order that we and our families may reap the benefits of a
period of country life. We could simply drive off to that section of the
country where we desired to be. Hotels would not be needed if a man could
take his house along with him into the fields, and one phase of life
which has more bad than good in it would be entirely obliterated. There
is nothing more disturbing to the serenity of a domestic man's mind than
the artificial manner of living that prevails in most summer hotels. The
nuisance of having to pay bills every Monday morning under the penalty of
losing one's luggage would be obviated, and all the comforts of home
would be directly within reach. The trouble incident upon getting the
trunks packed and the children ready for a long day's journey by rail,
and the fatigue arising from such a journey, would be reduced to a
minimum. The troubles attendant upon going into a far country, and
leaving one's house in the sole charge of a lot of servants for a month