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Kitchen & Bathroom
Planning Guidelines
with Access Standards
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
National Kitchen & Bath Association
687 Willow Grove Street
Hackettstown, NJ 07840
Phone: 800-THE-NKBA (800-843-6522)
Fax: 908-852-1695
Website: NKBA.org
Copyright © 2016 National Kitchen & Bath Association. All rights reserved.
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.
Published simultaneously in Canada.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the
1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the Publisher, or authorization through payment
of the appropriate per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc., 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, (978) 750-
8400, fax (978) 646-8600, or on the web at www.copyright.com. Requests to the Publisher for permission should be addressed
to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 111 River Street, Hoboken, NJ 07030, (201) 748-6011, fax (201) 748-
6008.
Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they
make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and
specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created
or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable
for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for
any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other
damages.
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold
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Cover: Kitchen photo (top left): Design by Amy Yin. Codesigners: Emily O'Keefe, CKD, CBD; Chris Papaleo, AIA,
LEED AP, NCARB
Photo © Joy Yagid
Bathroom photo (bottom right): Design by Erica Westeroth, CKD, CAPS, ARIDO. Codesigner: Sheena Hammond
Photo © Arnal Photography
Cover illustrations: NKBA Kitchen and Bathroom Planning Guidelines © Trish Koslowsky
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Names: National Kitchen and Bath Association (U.S.)
Title: Kitchen & bathroom planning guidelines with access standards /
National Kitchen & Bath Association.
Other titles: Kitchen and bathroom planning guidelines with access standards
| NKBA kitchen & bathroom planning guidelines with access standards
Description: Second edition. | Hoboken, New Jersey : Wiley, 2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015037523 (print) | LCCN 2015042191 (ebook) | ISBN
9781119216001 (spiral bound) | ISBN 9781119216568 (ePub) | ISBN
9781119216575 (Adobe PDF)
Subjects: LCSH: Kitchens-—Design and construction. | Bathrooms--Design and
construction. | Kitchens-—Designs and plans. | Bathrooms--Designs and
plans. | Kitchens—Standards. | Bathrooms—Standards. | BISAC:
ARCHITECTURE / Interior Design / General.
Classification: LCC TH3000.K58 K585 2016 (print) | LCC TH3000.K58 (ebook) |
DDC 690/.42—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015037523
THE NKBA
The National Kitchen & Bath Association (NKBA) is a leading nonprofit trade association
dedicated to the advancement of the kitchen and bath industry. Since its inception more than 50
years ago, the NKBA has maintained its leadership status of excellence and professionalism by
providing education, certification, and the tools needed for success in the industry. NKBA
Professional Development and Certification are the gold standard in the kitchen and bath
industry. The NKBA offers professional development courses and levels of certification for all
stages of an individual's career. The NKBA also offers networking opportunities and
professional development training at over 70 chapters across North America. The NKBA is
proud owner of the Kitchen & Bath Industry Show (KBIS).
NKBA LEARNING & DEVELOPMENT

NKBA Learning & Development provides kitchen and bath professionals with convenient
educational courses to enhance their careers. The NKBA offers professional development
opportunities through in-person courses, virtual instructor-led training, eLearning, seminars,
and conferences. The NKBA courses are aligned to specific learning paths in eight key
competency areas, providing an individualized approach to professional development. Industry
professionals can easily determine which courses are appropriate for their career growth by
viewing the course descriptions on NKBA.org. The NKBA also has approximately 55
Accredited and Supported Programs in colleges and universities across North America that
specialize in kitchen and bath design.
NKBA CERTIFICATION
NKBA Certification is based on in-depth testing, education, and industry experience, allowing
consumers to know that their designer's professional skills have been independently evaluated
and tested. NKBA certified professional members are committed to improving those skills by
meeting continuing education and professional development requirements.
There are three levels of NKBA Certification: Associate Kitchen & Bath Designer (AKBD®),
Certified Kitchen Designer (CKD®) or Certified Bath Designer (CBD®), and Certified Master
Kitchen & Bath Designer (CMKBD®).
CONTENTS
Methodology/Overview
Kitchen Planning Guidelines with Access Standards
Kitchen Planning Guideline 1
Notes
Bathroom Planning Guidelines with Access Standards
Bathroom Planning Guideline 1
Notes
Measurement Conversions
The NKBA Professional Resource Library
EULA
List of Tables
Chapter 1
Shelf/Drawer Frontage in Inches
Shelf/Drawer Frontage in Millimeters
Methodology/Overview
The NKBA Kitchen & Bathroom Planning Guidelines with Access Standards is a collection
of illustrations and planning suggestions to aid professionals in the safe and effective planning
of kitchens and bathrooms. These guidelines are also included in NKBA Professional
Resource Library Kitchen Planning and Bath Planning volumes. Designers and those
interested in becoming kitchen and bath design professionals benefit by studying the complete
body of knowledge found in the NKBA Professional Resource Library.
These easy-to-understand guidelines were developed under the guidance of the NKBA by a
committee of professionals. The guidelines published in this booklet reflect a composite of the
historical review, current industry environment, future trends, consumer lifestyles, new
research, new building codes, and current industry practices.
The purpose of the guidelines is to serve as the basis for:
Ensuring building code compliance.
Recognizing the importance of consumer health, safety, and welfare in kitchen and
bathroom design.
Supporting sound kitchen and bath design practices.
Testing core kitchen and bath competencies.
Training designers in academic and educational programs.
Kitchen Planning Guidelines with Access Standards
The National Kitchen & Bath Association developed the Kitchen Planning Guidelines with
Access Standards to provide designers with good planning practices that consider the needs of
a range of users.
The code references for the Kitchen Planning Guidelines are based on the analysis of the 2015
International Residential Code® (IRC®) and the International Plumbing Code®.
The code references for the Access Standards are based on ICC A117.1–2009 Accessible and
Usable Buildings and Facilities.
Be sure to check local, state, and national laws that apply to your design and follow those legal
requirements.
Updates made to the Guidelines in this edition are easily identified by boldface text.
Drawings for the kitchen planning guidelines were contributed by Chief Architect and created
using Chief Architect software (www.chiefarchitect.com).
KITCHEN PLANNING GUIDELINE 1

Door/Entry
Recommended:
The clear opening of a doorway should be at least 32″ (813 mm) wide. This would require a
minimum 2′10″ (864 mm) door.
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Code Requirement:
State or local codes may apply.
Access Standard
Recommended:
The clear opening of a doorway should be at least 34″ (864 mm). This would require a
minimum 3′0″ (914 mm) door.
ICC A117.1–2009 Reference:
Clear openings of doorways with swinging doors shall be measured between the face of
door and stop, with the door open 90 degrees. (404.2.2)
When a passage exceeds 24″ (610 mm) in depth, the minimum clearance increases to 36″
(914 mm). (404.2.2)
Door Interference
Recommended:
No entry door should interfere with the safe operation of appliances, nor should appliance
doors interfere with one another.
Code Requirement:
Access Standard
Recommended:
In addition, the door area should include clear floor space for maneuvering, which varies
according to the type of door and direction of approach.
For a standard hinged door, the minimum clearance on the pull side of the door should be
the door width plus 18″ × 60″ (457 mm × 1524 mm). (404.2.3)
The minimum clearance on the push side of the door should be the width of the door plus
12″ × 48″ (305 mm × 1219 mm). (404.2.3)
Distance between Work Centers
Recommended:
In a kitchen with three work centers,1 the sum of the three traveled distances should total no
more than 26′ (7.9 m), with no single leg of the triangle measuring less than 4′ (1.2 m) or more
than 9′ (2.7 m).
When the kitchen plan includes more than three primary appliance/work centers, each
additional travel distance to another appliance/work center should measure no less than 4′ (1.2
m) nor more than 9′ (2.7 m).
Each leg is measured from the center-front of the appliance/sink.
No work triangle leg intersects an island/peninsula or other obstacle by more than 12″ (305
mm).
Code Requirement:
Access Standard
Recommended:
Kitchen guideline recommendation meets Access Standard.

Separating Work Centers
Recommended:
A full-height, full-depth, tall obstacle2 should not separate two primary work centers.
A properly recessed tall corner unit will not interrupt the workflow and is acceptable.
Code Requirement:
Access Standard
Recommended:
Work Triangle Traffic
Recommended:
No major traffic patterns should cross through the basic work triangle.
Code Requirement:
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Access Standard
Recommended:

Work Aisle
Recommended:
The width of a work aisle should be at least 42″ (1067 mm) for one cook and at least 48″
(1219 mm) for multiple cooks. Measure between the counter frontage, tall cabinets, and/or
appliances.
Code Requirement:
Access Standard
Recommended:
Kitchen guideline recommendation meets Access Standard recommendation. See Code
References for specific applications.
A clear floor space of at least 30″ × 48″ (762 mm × 1219 mm) should be provided at each
kitchen appliance. Clear floor spaces can overlap. (305.3, 804.5)
In a U-shaped kitchen, plan a minimum clearance of 60″ (1524 mm) between opposing
arms. (804.2, 1003.12)
Include a wheelchair turning space with a diameter of at least 60″ (1524 mm), which can
include knee3 and toe4 clearances. (304.3)
A wheelchair turning space could utilize a T-shaped clear space, which is a 60″ (1524
mm) square with two 12″ wide × 24″ (305 mm × 610 mm) deep areas removed from the
corners of the square. This leaves a minimum 36″ (914 mm) wide base and two 36″ (914
mm) wide arms. T-shaped wheelchair turning spaces can include knee and toe clearances.
(304.3)
Code Requirement:
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looked very odd, very—like something between a turkeycock and a
dromedary.
Well, these few details are nearly all that have descended to us
respecting the ancient Knickerbockers. It seems, however, that while
digging in the center of the emperor's garden (which, you know,
covers the whole island), some of the workmen unearthed a cubical
and evidently chiseled block of granite, weighing several hundred
pounds. It was in good preservation, having received, apparently,
little injury from the convulsion which entombed it. On one of its
surfaces was a marble slab with (only think of it!) an inscription—a
legible inscription. Pundit is in ecstasies. Upon detaching the slab, a
cavity appeared, containing a leaden box filled with various coins, a
long scroll of names, several documents which appear to resemble
newspapers, with other matters of intense interest to the
antiquarian! There can be no doubt that all these are genuine
Amriccan relics belonging to the tribe called Knickerbocker. The
papers thrown on board our balloon are filled with fac-similes of the
coins, MSS., typography, etc., etc. I copy for your amusement the
Knickerbocker inscription on the marble slab:
This Corner Stone of a Monument to the
Memory of
GEORGE WASHINGTON,
was laid with appropriate ceremonies on the
19th day of October, 1847,
the anniversary of the surrender of
Lord Cornwallis
to General Washington at Yorktown,
A. D. 1781,
under the auspices of the
Washington Monument Association of the
City of New York.
This, as I give it, is a verbatim translation done by Pundit himself,
so there can be no mistake about it. From the few words thus
preserved, we gleam several important items of knowledge, not the
least interesting of which is the fact that a thousand years ago
actual monuments had fallen into disuse—as was all very proper—
the people contenting themselves, as we do now, with a mere
indication of the design to erect a monument at some future time; a
cornerstone being cautiously laid by itself "solitary and alone"
(excuse me for quoting the great Amriccan poet Benton!) as a
guarantee of the magnanimous intention. We ascertain, too, very
distinctly, from this admirable inscription, the how as well as the
where and the what, of the great surrender in question. As to the
where, it was Yorktown (wherever that was), and as to the what, it
was General Cornwallis (no doubt some wealthy dealer in corn). He
was surrendered. The inscription commemorates the surrender of—
what?—why, "of Lord Cornwallis." The only question is what could
the savages wish him surrendered for. But when we remember that
these savages were undoubtedly cannibals, we are led to the
conclusion that they intended him for sausage. As to the how of the
surrender, no language can be more explicit. Lord Cornwallis was
surrendered (for sausage) "under the auspices of the Washington
Monument Association"—no doubt a charitable institution for the
depositing of cornerstones. But, Heaven bless me! what is the
matter? Ah, I see—the balloon has collapsed, and we shall have a
tumble into the sea. I have, therefore, only time enough to add that,
from a hasty inspection of the fac-similes of newspapers, etc., etc., I
find that the great men in those days among the Amriccans, were
one John, a smith, and one Zacchary, a tailor.
Good-bye, until I see you again. Whether you ever get this letter or
not is point of little importance, as I write altogether for my own
amusement. I shall cork the MS. up in a bottle, however, and throw
it into the sea.
Yours everlastingly,
PUNDITA.
—Edgar Allan Poe.
Busyong's Trip to Jupiter

Singular indeed among such ordinary men as we come across in
our everyday life Busyong might have seemed to us, both on
account of his features and of his attitude. He had wrinkles on his
face which showed that he had smiled and laughed much in his life;
but his expression was rather sardonic. He was a lively man, with a
keen sense of what is serious and what is ludicrous. Owing to this
peculiarity Busyong did not have many acquaintances among his
tribe. However, he did not feel lonesome or forlorn; often he amused
himself in observing in his people what he regarded as the
overstepping of limits of propriety and decency. He was not a man of
vast knowledge, yet he had exquisite common sense, which his few
good friends admired.
Busyong entertained the idea of visiting the brightest planet, next
to Venus, of our solar system, namely, Jupiter; for he had read in a
certain book that Jupiter is inhabited, and the inhabitants can float in
the air because of their lightness. "This is something to me," he said
to himself. "Let us see what sort of people they are." So, led by
curiosity, Busyong after several attempts succeeded in finding means
by which he could go to Jupiter. He made a large balloon-like
machine. When Busyong had prepared everything necessary for this
aerial voyage, he began ascending from the top of Mt. Makiling at
sunset. Nobody witnessed him, because he did not make the
purpose of his voyage known to anybody. While he was ascending,
he was delighted to observe the earth growing smaller and smaller.
The machine of the balloon was so powerful that by turning a sort of
button to its maximum capacity, as Busyong did, he had the balloon
soon piercing the clouds and like a large condor soaring in the sky.
When Busyong found out that he could hardly breathe, he
accelerated the speed of the balloon, so that in a few moments he
found himself in a different atmosphere where he could breathe as
well as before when he was yet near the earth. He was now near
Jupiter, whose brightness had served him as a lighthouse. He had
puffed out some of the vapor in the balloon, so that he might go
down nearer the planet. It being very early in the morning, he
resolved to take a rest; for he was tired of seeing nothing but stars
and sky.
Presently, after about two hours, when the sun was just appearing
from behind the planet, Busyong woke up. He was glad; for he had
dreamt that he should see things which he had never seen before.
After rubbing his eyes with a handkerchief, he began to look around
him. With the aid of a telescope which he had brought he saw to his
surprise large and small bodies of land and water, which he took for
continents, islands, oceans, and lakes, respectively. Descending
lower, he perceived mountains, some of which were hidden by
clouds, and others that were unhidden, covered with trees. When he
had directed his telescope towards a valley, he noticed to his
happiness a poor dwelling of some human being. It was a hut with a
roof similar to nipa and with a wooden ladder, near which was a
cock. The sight of this dwelling gave rise in Busyong mind to a train
of ideas regarding the inhabitants of the planet. So far it certainly
looked like the country he had come from: it might still be the
Philippines. Busyong decided to alight from his balloon on the top of
a mountain near the hut. After he had eaten his breakfast, he began
to descend the mountain. It was not long before he reached its foot
through devious paths.
When he appeared before the entrance of the cottage and looked
in, he found a haggard middle-aged man, a sluttish old woman, and
a wan-faced boy, all of a swarthy appearance, sitting on the floor.
They were eating their frugal breakfast, which consisted of fried rice,
coffee, and dried fish. They did not use spoons, but their plain dirty-
nailed fingers. Busyong was surprised to find so great a similarity
both in the form of the house and in the manner of eating between
these people and those of his own country. Presently upon his
saluting these inmates with a magandang araw po, a small lean red
dog began to bark at him. The man, who was sitting in a squatting
posture, turned his face and remained for a few moments staring at
Busyong with a little fright mingled with wonder. Unfortunately when
the old woman had cleaned her shriveled hands unconsciously with
a piece of brown ragged cloth, the dog vomited on it without being
noticed by any one of the family. Then with her disheveled hair she
stood up to receive Busyong, who was a stranger to them; but the
man prevented her from doing so. The man did not appear to
understand Busyong, who again bade him a good morning, and so
Busyong resolved to talk to him like a mute by signs. Having noticed
a large farm not very far from the hut, Busyong beckoned the man,
and made signs, asking him who the owner of the field was. The
man, who seemed to be a farm laborer, pointed to him the way to
the rich farmer's house. Busyong soon left him still staring with a
vacant countenance and wide-open mouth.
Busyong had noticed the folly of the old woman when she wiped
her hands with the dirty piece of cloth. It was not long after he had
started to go that he heard such loud retchings from the hut that he
stopped and turned around. He returned anxious to see what the
matter was. When he appeared before the entrance of the cottage,
he saw the peasant, who kept asking his wife in a compassionate
manner what was the matter with her. The man received no answer;
for his wife kept on retching so constantly that she thought that, like
a sea cucumber, she had everted all her alimentary canal or was
going to do so. The poor husband was so perplexed that he did not
know what to do with her; sometimes he patted her breast;
sometimes he rubbed her back as if he were stroking the bulik sa
pula (a cock spotted with white and red, but mostly with red) that
was near the ladder of the hut.
Presently, when the peasant saw Busyong observing his action, he
drew near to him and said something in a tremulous voice. Busyong
explained to the man by motions that the cause of all the trouble
was perhaps the vomit of the dog on the piece of cloth. The man
hurried to convince himself; and in his great anger he would have
killed the poor animal, were it not for Busyong, who stopped him.
The husband and the wife, whose convulsions had calmed
somewhat, were angry with the dog, and even their little boy,
pouting with smeared face, showed his anger by squalling at and
whipping the animal; but at the same time the man and the old
woman were afraid that Busyong might call an ambulance to take
them all to a hospital or police station. In the midst of this
excitement Busyong availed himself of the opportunity to "strike
when the emotional iron was hot." He exhorted the family
concerning the custom of eating with fingers in such a philippic as
might have had a very deep impression on the minds of all his
hearers if they had understood him.
Busyong then departed, and he said to himself nodding, "Aha, I
remember my grandmother often said to me when she would tell me
amusing stories that in the vineyard of the Lord there are all sorts of
things. I see now that her statement seems to hold good even in
this new planet." When he had walked some distance, he looked
around him, and took his handkerchief out of a pocket of his coat
and with it wiped off the perspiration on his face. Feeling himself
warm, he whiffed and said, "I see, this country appears to have the
same warm climate as that of my native land. I wonder if the people
here are all brown like the farm-laborer and me." After a few
minutes' walk he saw a large town at a short distance, and among
the small houses he perceived a steep roof which he took for the
steeple of the church of the village. The first house he came to in
the town was that of the rich farmer. It was a two-storied square
wooden structure; in front of it was a small garden, and behind a
small orchard. Busyong knocked at the door, and in a few moments
a servant appeared.
"Is the farmer in?" Busyong inquired, hardly expecting to be
understood. He knew no language but his own, and had to try to get
along with that.
"Yes, sir," answered the servant, whose curiosity was awakened by
the rather unfamiliar appearance of Busyong, but who seemed to
wonder not at all at his speech.
"Tell him, please, that a stranger desires to speak with him."
Without uttering a word, the servant went to comply with
Busyong's request.
"Yes, invite him to come in," said the old farmer to his servant.
"And, Andoy," he added, "tell Islao to come here to try these new
sound assorters."
"Yes, sir," was the boy's reply as he went down the stairs.
The servant first led Busyong before the farmer.
"Here, Islao, see if you can put these new filterers into your ears
without discomfort. I've improved on the others considerably, I
think," said the old man as Busyong stepped into the room.
"Good morning, sir," said Busyong very respectfully, taking the
proffered package and bowing, though he understood not a word.
"Oh! excuse me, sir, excuse me! I mistook you for my son,"
exclaimed the farmer, but seeing that Busyong was confused he
motioned him to sit down, and then drawing from his ears a tiny pair
of soft elastic-looking objects, put them back and motioned Busyong
to imitate him by applying what was in the package to his own ears.
Being naturally very curious and desiring above all things to make a
good impression on the inhabitants of this strange planet, Busyong
obeyed. But what was his astonishment to find that he now began to
understand perfectly what the old man was saying, whom before he
had not comprehended in the least, although the old fellow was
already well launched on a long exposition. Busyong's understanding
began to work at about this point: "You see, I have greatly improved
them. There has always hitherto been a sort of buzzing
accompaniment. You don't feel any, do you? You understand me
perfectly, don't you? I told my son Islao the difficulty could be
overcome, But, you see, people have been so accustomed to getting
along with the noise that they stopped being impatient at it. But I
said since we had all the language sounds assorted and distributed
to their proper concept centers, there was no reason why we should
not be able to conduct outward the so-to-say 'mechanical' sounds.
You understand me perfectly, don't you, sir, and with no buzzing. Is
not that so?"
"Yes, truly; but much to my astonishment," replied Busyong, "for a
moment ago I did not understand you, and now I do. On our planet
I have heard of light or ray filterers that would distribute colors on a
sensitive camera plate, but this is the first time I've heard of a
language filterer, though I see that it works perfectly. But, sir, I
remember that you were very busy when I came in, and now I am
bothering you."
"Oh, no, sir; keep your seat, keep your seat, please. This is the
time when I attend to visitors; from nine to twelve o'clock in the
morning and from three to five o'clock in the afternoon; and even at
any other time I am disposed to receive a guest, especially a
stranger."
"Thank you, sir. My intrusion is perhaps justifiable by my being a
stranger to this planet."
"A stranger to this planet! Will you explain yourself? Otherwise I
shall think you are some ghost."
"Why, yes, I'll make myself clear as I can. I arrived here just this
morning from the planet Earth. Near the foot of that neighboring
mountain I saw the hut of your farm laborer, who showed me your
house."
"But how did you come to this planet!"
"By a special balloon which I made myself."
"Oh, yes, I remember now; I remember to have read—I do not
recollect the name of the book—that such an aerial voyage from the
earth to this planet or vice versa is possible. Oh, please, stay here
with us; we shall be very glad to have you remain with us."
"Thank you, sir; yes, I'll stay here. Especially if you will explain to
me this wonderful device by means of which I can understand your
language and you mine. Now on Earth we have to go to the labor of
memorizing a whole dictionary if we wish to converse with a fellow
mortal of another nationality."
"Oh, yes; that's very bad. A great loss of time and energy. A long
while ago, after we had perfected mechanical talking machines,
somebody realized that we were wasting a great amount of time
conversing with machinery when we couldn't understand our fellow
men. So he set himself to thinking and he soon saw that the
difference in languages is not a difference in ideas, but in sounds. So
if he could just filter the sound waves as they entered the cranium,
he could trust to consciousness to do the rest; for it always responds
to phenomena after its own nature, not after the nature of the
phenomena that it takes up—as the philosophers had long before
proved. But I must stop talking. I want to hear about the Earth. I
dare say your planet is much wiser than ours. Ours is very foolish in
many ways, as you will see before long." And the farmer got up to
order one of his servants to prepare a room for Busyong.
The family of the old man, consisting of a wife and a grown-up son
and a young daughter, then spent most of the day in eagerly
questioning Busyong about the earth and its inhabitants. Night came
on and the farmer remained alone conversing with Busyong beside a
window until very late. They were beginning to feel sleepy when a
confused noise of stringed instruments was heard from a
neighboring house. Busyong soon lost his drowsiness.
"What is that music for? What does it mean at such at an hour as
this? 'Tis one o'clock," Busyong said.
"These people are courting a lady, and their cackling is intended to
win the love of the maiden—nay, I should say to annoy and disturb
the neighbors from their rest; for that's really what they do," replied
the old man with indignation. "This custom," he added, "although
not widespread in this country, is yet after all very troublesome and
indeed very ridiculous also."
"Now, I wonder if these people know the woman for whom they
are offering their sacrifices."
"That is another folly about them. That is often the case; these
people work hard making a loud noise with their wooden rattles in
order to attain their purpose, but they don't have the slightest idea
of the real character of the woman for whom they die deliriously;
nay, they don't know even how she looks; whether she is ugly and
haggard or whether she is like Venus, charming with beauty."
"Ha, ha, ha, ha, O Folly! But let us not fret ourselves at the errors
of mankind, for they seem to be natural both to this planet and to
that of mine. Hark! who is that singing now so affectedly?"
"That is the head of the band, the Faust. Listen to his fastidious
voice and the balder-dash with which it is accompanied."
Silence reigned for a time between the old man and Busyong. Upon
hearing no longer the music which had occasioned his remarks the
old man said, "Thanks to Dios, I think they are gone. Now let us go
to bed. You must be very tired, Busyong. Good night."
"Good night," replied Busyong.
Next morning the old man told his son Islao to take a walk with
Busyong around the town. In this exploration, for such did it appear
rather than just a mere promenade to Busyong, who was a stranger
to the planet, Islao led his friend directly to his large farm of rice.
Then they went to the busiest part of the large town, where
Busyong was delighted to observe the different kinds of stores—dry
goods and hardware. When they came to a very lively street,
Busyong found occasion to laugh in his characteristic sarcastic
manner at the tremendous numbers of different kinds of signboards,
some hanging flat against the doors of the stores, and some sticking
out a long distance or even stretching across the entire width of the
street. The size of the signboards ranged from the smallest of those
which professional men use to the very large ones with which the
managers of theaters announce a dramatic performance.
While the two friends were walking slowly along the street, for
there were many people out, their attention was very curiously
attracted by the appearance of a scrawny young man, who came
mincing by them. They stopped beside a telegraph post, while the
young man went on, meeting a friend at a short distance, to whom
he said, "Hallo, Tetoy (Aniceto). Donde vamus you?" "Hallo,
Balatong," replied the friend. The rest of their conversation went on
in a low tone in their peculiar dialect. Busyong and Islao overheard
only their slipshod greetings.
"Islao, who is that man—that one who wears the hat with a wide
ribbon whose colors are light blue and green, and black with white
stripes resembling the skin of a skunk?" inquired Busyong.
"What man? Excuse me, I was looking at somebody else," said
Islao. "Do you mean that one who wears a bright red, yellow, and
green——"
"Crumpled small fish net around his collar I should say; yes,
exactly, that one. Who's he?"
"Ha, ha, ha; oh, yes. He is one of the suitors of the girl who lives in
front of our house. Balatong, I think is his name."
"Aha, the one who cackled last night, as your father said?"
"I don't know," laughing.
"And that other one with cross eyes, whose trousers are folded up
five times, I think, showing his stockings, which are like the tidies of
a chair back—who's he?"
"Who? That one who wears broad ribbon-like strings on his shoes?
I don't know him. Don't you think he looks like a woman—I mean
both of them—with their way of dressing? Aha, one of them—not
the cross-eyed—has powder on his face, I think."
"Oh, yes, yes. You know, in my native country in the planet Earth
only women are fond of and use such gaudy colors and such kind of
stockings; and, indeed, they are only proper for women. But we
used to——"
"But that's not all here; the worst is when these people use
stockings—as I have had occasion to notice many times—stockings
which are elaborately ornamented with the queerest fantastic
designs; such as a burning dainty heart, a dove carrying a bunch of
dama de noche with its toes—rather, a falcon or vulture I should say
—great goodness!—make the dove carry a flower in its claws!"
"Aha, is that so? Why, thanks to goodness, in my native land no
such queer people are to be found now, except very, very few. There
used to be—but do you know what we call them in pure, simple
Tagalog? We call them binabae; that is a bit worse than the English
term 'sissy.' But from your own experience, tell me, Islao, what living
being other than man have you observed making such a liberal
display of gaudy colors in that most affected manner?"
"Why, among plants you mean? Like the parasite with beautifully
colored flowers hanging on that window?"
"Well, not so low in the organic world as that," laughing heartily. "I
don't mean a plant; I mean——"
"Oh, I get your point. You mean among birds like the gayly colored
rooster of that man who is now hawking in that store, don't you?"
"Exactly, upon my wish, you have slipped from your tongue what I
was precisely going to say."
"And I think you know why the birds, most especially the males, do
have such bright colors."
"Why, yes; I suppose those smart young men have the same view
in mind as that of the male birds, and meditate and dream that it is
'not proper at all for a man to be alone,' as, thinking of Priscilla,
Miles Standish would say."
"Possibly, possibly," laughing. Islao did not understand the allusion,
but he let it pass.
"Now be careful; don't speak loud," whispered Busyong.
Presently the two friends who were the object of Busyong and
Islao's rather severe remarks shuffled towards Busyong and Islao,
stopping near the telegraph post beside them. The two chums were
going to separate when one of them, the cross-eyed, jabbered, "Oh,
you teni espijo, ah? Porque? You ajos malo, eh?"
A sudden insuppressible peal of laughter was heard from Busyong
and Islao, who soon tried to act as if they did not hear the blunder.
"Cosa ajos? Am no cook as you," said the other grinning over his
glasses a little more easily than the first one.
"Cosa esti?" asked the cross-eyed one, pointing to his eyes with his
dirty-nailed finger.
"T'at is call 'esquinting eyes.'"
"Ah, yes. Porque got espijo you, esquinting ais?"
"Oh, you don' know its value; t'at is to add weight," erecting his
body and raising his low chest, but forgetting that the other had
called him cross-eyed.
Their gabble would have lasted longer if it were not for two ladies
who passed between them. Balatong, as the young man who wore
spectacles was called, started to mince along the busy street,
scowling at Busyong and at Islao, who were suppressing their
laughter as best they could, as he strutted before them. In a few
moments Busyong and Islao began also to move about, and soon
kept pace with two bald-headed men who happened to be walking
the street in the same direction as theirs. Presently, one of the old
men observed Balatong, who was peering at and caressing with a
handkerchief one of his tapped shoes which had been stepped upon
by a "brat," to use his own expression, as he had struggled along,
distorting carefully his body to force a way through an idle crowd.
Then in a sarcastic but indignant manner and forgetting what his
companion was speaking about, the man said, "Oh, look at that
Enigo. See how the lower edge of his long cloak flaps like a sail
battered by the wind!"
"No," said the other old man, "that is not a cloak, but a plain coat."
"Well, I thought it was a cloak like those used by the people in the
neighboring continent in time of cold weather. That's the reason why
I said he was Enigo, for he uses a cloak now when it is warm, and I
suppose he would use light clothes when it is cold."
"That is the fashion they say—and the latest one, too."
"Go to, the fashion!"
Meanwhile Busyong nudged Islao and whispered close to his ear,
"Did you hear what these old men were talking about?"
Islao nodded, smiling.
Then the two old men climbed into a vehicle very much like a
carretela, and drove away. Busyong and Islao went into a saloon of
fresh drinks and asked for a refreshment similar to milkshake.
"The owner of this saloon is a woman, according to the signboard
at the door," remarked Busyong.
"Yes," said Islao, smiling; "I am sorry to say."
In the meantime Balatong stopped in front of a dry goods store on
the opposite sidewalk and began to ruminate on his image as
reflected in the glass of a counter, and at times twitched his scrawny
body. Busyong and Islao were observing him. After a while a clerk of
the store opened the door of the counter and turned a button on the
back of a puppet, which hereto had been unnoticed by Balatong.
Soon the dainty hands of the puppet, which were raised in front of
its small breast, began to move back and forth, especially the
delicate fingers, as if the whole figure had come to life. Balatong
looked at the doll rather pleased at first. But when he noticed the
remarkable similarity of all the clothes of the puppet with his own
clothes, he began to be aroused and to feel offended, insomuch that
he could not help going into the store to complain. He approached
the man who had made the hands of the puppet move and called
him to come outside. The man, who thought that he was going to
show something on the counter which he wished to buy, followed
him obediently. They stuttered in their native tongue, which ran thus
in English:
"I think that that puppet is intended to offend me, because it is
dressed exactly in the same way as I am; that is, with the same
clothes, necktie, and hat, which I bought from this very store some
time ago. However, you have willfully—made—the—pup—pup—pup
—pet—move its hands in such a way as that—pointing to himself
and then to me—that is as much as to say I am a puppet," said
Balatong, who began to be angry with the man, who was laughing
candidly.
The man went back into the store, shrugging his square shoulders
and paying no attention to the complaint of Balatong. Balatong
insisted, squalling at the door in an aggressive attitude, "Aren't you
goin' to take 'way the puppet from t'at counter?"
"E ko visa," muttered the clerk in his native dialect as he was
dusting the chairs in the store.
Presently Busyong and Islao, who all this while had been mute
spectators of the fray, came out of the saloon with a view to settle
the dispute peacefully and justly, for, after all, they pitied Balatong,
who, they thought, had got now into an inextricable strait. Islao,
who could speak a little the peculiar dialect of the clerk, addressed
the clerk confidentially in his own tongue, asking him what was the
matter. The man answered in the same language which Busyong
understood thus: "Why, this friend orders me to remove the puppet
from that counter; for he says that he is not pleased with it."
"Well, well, is that the whole cause of this fuss?" asked Busyong,
smiling.
Meanwhile Balatong was setting forth to Islao earnestly all his
complaint with many, many studied complicated movements of both
hands and body. Islao waited for him to finish stuttering, for he
wanted to talk with him. Then, suspecting from the tone of his voice
a smack of Kamkangan blood in Balatong, Islao thought it best to
feign comradeship for the sake of persuading him to behave in a
more manly way. So, when Balatong had finished jabbering, Islao
addressed him in the most friendly manner, saying laconically, "Abe,
e ka makisankut ketang é mo balú.[2]"
Upon hearing these words, which he at first pretended not to have
understood, Balatong suddenly became excited and perplexed. He
gnashed his widely separated teeth, clenched his fists, and looked
up into Islao's face with fiery eyes, saying, "Why d'you insult an'
curse me? If I ha-have done wron', show me how; an' if not, qua de
causa?"
Busyong and Islao smiled pityingly and ironically instead of being
offended. On the other hand, bursting into a peal of laughter, the
juvenile clerk said jocosely in a sort of Kamkanga dialect the
following: "Aroo, our abe is an evangelical man—fine!—nay, he is a
priest. How was it?—qua re cosa—ha, ha, ha."
Balatong became the more angry with the clerk inasmuch as he
saw that the clerk was poking fun at him.
"I don' want to be the laughing stock of anybody," said Balatong
indignantly.
"Don't be touchy, abe," said the clerk in his own dialect.
All of a sudden the exasperated Balatong seized a big stone from
the street and dashed it against the glass of the counter, which
broke into a thousand pieces. The people of the store and some
passers-by were alarmed at the violent action of Balatong. Presently
a robust old man came hurriedly shuffling with his wooden shoes
towards Balatong, and would have strangled him were it not for the
opportune presence of a fat man who was one of the idle crowd that
had been gathering at the door of the shop.
The fat man, who was carrying under his arm two large scissors in
a folded white coat, interposed himself between the aggressor and
Balatong, saying in dialect, "For the sake of our beloved country!
Don't behave that way, fellow patriot! Don't, especially with one of
the same skin as yours and in whose veins runs the same pure blood
as that of yours. For the noblest ideal of our Talukap[3] party,
countrymen, bethink yourselves!"
"Surely," replied the old man, whose anger was appeased by the
slushy encomium of the intruder. "But this fellow here does not seem
to be like a true native of this country, for look at what he has done
with that counter, simply because he says he isn't pleased with that
puppet there."
"Well, well," said in a friendly manner the intruder as he faced
Balatong, "why do you behave that way?"
"Sherup! don' interfere with me; you had better mind only your
incisors," retorted Balatong, imitating with his bony fingers the
movement of the scissors he meant.
Busyong and Islao suddenly burst into prolonged laughter, while
the rest remained silent drivelling with wide-opened mouths as they
beheld the two men laughing heartily.
"Do you see! This friend is angry with me according to the tone of
his voice. What did he say?" asked the fat man turning towards
Busyong and Islao.
Islao nudged Busyong to get him to come out of the store.
"Come, come, let us go home, lest we hurt with our laughing their
susceptible feelings, especially of that young dandy—pardon me, I
mean doctor," said Islao aside to Busyong when they reached the
corner of a street and turned to the left.
"O Momus, son of Mox!" exclaimed Busyong smiling after a short
time, "how jocund indeed must you be with the people here!"
"Surely, he must be," said Islao.
"By the way, I remember that the tailor—that is, the fat man—
seemed to boast a political party."
"Oh, yes!"
"What is that party?"
"It is called the National Talukap Party. You know, this country is a
democracy in name, but an oligarchy in fact, as the people here say,
for the government is in the hands of only a very few of the native
countrymen; most of the power is in foreign hands. So the Talukap
party aims to reverse the condition of things; nay, to have the
control of the government wholly in the hands of the people of this
country. I am warmly in favor of this policy. But what I do find
objectionable in this Talukap party is their affectation and tautology,
and their pretension and empty show in their outward conduct. For
my part, I believe in doing things silently but effectively. On the
other hand, I am not in favor of the other party, which is called the
National Kinagisnan Party, whose policy is to be contented slavishly
with the present condition of things or with whatever condition for
the time being. The people who belong to this Kinagisnan party are
very few in comparison with those that belong to the Talukap party.
Being in very close contact with the sovereign, the Kinagisnan
people are very apt to become flatterers."
"Moreover, the ideal of your Talukap party, I think, becomes less
feasible, if not impossible, when you consider these dandies like
those two chums over there who are clasping one another by the
waist. Indeed, they live in a very peculiar world by themselves."
"And with Momus, I suppose, as their Supreme Being."
"Ha, yes, I should think so, too. But after all they are not to be
blamed. Everything goes step by step. Even my native country in the
planet Earth has had the same defects practically as these people
here. Now I am glad that there in my native land the people,
especially the young men, have reached, by education and the bitter
lesson of experience, of course, a stage where their old views of the
world have become greatly changed, most especially in this respect:
now they hate affectation under any form whatever, whether in
dress, manners, knowledge or in deeds."
"Why, that is a condition to be envied greatly."
By this time the two friends, Busyong and Islao, were standing in
front of the farmer's house. The old man and his wife were awaiting
them in order that all might dine together. The rest of the day glided
by pleasantly.
Next morning Busyong decided to return to the planet Earth,
although the old farmer and his son tried to delay him longer in
Jupiter. He promised to come back to them. While in his large
balloon, and recollecting vividly all the things he had observed in the
country he was leaving, Busyong let his mind run upon the following
ancient lines:
"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!"
Just then he remembered with a start that when he had begun to

crank his balloon he had taken out his sound assorters and laid them
on the edge of the car. He had wanted to hear the familiar noise
without distribution in order to feel that all was safe. And now when
he looked for those precious assorters he could not find them. They
must have fallen overboard. And worst of all, he had neglected to
get the whole explanation from the Jupiterite.
—Manuel Candido.
III. Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical

Invention
Tales of scientific discovery and mechanical
Beginning in
imaginary
invention appeal to us as being extremely modern.
voyages Yet the essential elements had a beginning at least
two centuries and a half ago. The quality of the
marvelous is easy enough to trace; and the logicalness hardly less
so. We find both in the imaginary voyages. De Bergerac discovers
that he can lift himself from the earth by the expansion of phials of
dew affixed to his person, and from this experiment he goes on to
invent an elastic machine which bears him to the moon. Klim, too,
arrives at his wonderful adventures by a scientific beginning: he sets
out to explore a rocky orifice in the Weathercock Mountain, and
causes himself to be let down by a rope. The rope snaps, and he is
precipitated into an intra-terrestrial astral system, where he begins
immediately to revolve around a planet Azar, his biscuits which he
had attempted to throw away performing meanwhile an orbit around
his own body. He alights, of course, finally by accident, and goes on
with his governmental experiences.
These learned elements in the imaginary voyages
Difference one of
emphasis
point definitely to our modern stories. The
difference lies in the emphasis: our modern stories
are severely and consistently logical, and interest centers in the
machine or the scientific theory. The reader does not ask to go on
long journeys to see chimeras, but he asks to see ultra-logical man.
He does not encourage the author in being satiric; he wants him to
be inventive, to be more ingenious than the race has been. The
reader wants the author to show him what man would be if he were
consistently progressive and wise, what he would come to if he
worked day and night at his science and applied what he learned,—
indeed, what he already knows. For it is an open secret in the
scientific world that there is hardly a wonderful modern machine that
is not an almost foolishly simple application of a well-known law.
Take our marvelous future trains, for instance, that are to run on one
rail and be as wide and commodious as houses—they are but to
follow a principle that every school-boy sees in operation when he
spins a top. I dare say, if some person would only write a story
telling us where to affix the wheel and the balance, we might
convert our present houses into private Pullmans, as it were, that
could at any time transport us, family and all, with everyone of our
personal and familiar conveniences intact therein, to any spot we
chose, the only extra expense to us for each trip being a slight rent
for wheel space for the time that we were running over the single-
rail track that led thitherward.
Shading off from the imaginary voyage type,
Essential
elements
therefore, is this modern one which I have
designated by the somewhat long title, tales of
scientific discovery and mechanical invention. By this title I mean to
distinguish stories in which the occurrences, though startling, are
perfectly logical in sequence, granted the premise—extraordinary,
but not improbable under the conditions set forth. The words
discovery and mechanical express the fact that the sustaining
structure of a story such as these is often some invention
superimposed upon modern science. In the use of electricity, for
instance, the characters in the narrative go one step further than Mr.
Edison; in the construction and operation of the flying-machine,
several steps further than the Wright brothers; in the discovery of
elements, someone finds something more useful and of greater
power than radium; or, after long experimenting, he mixes a paint so
black or so white that the object beneath it becomes invisible; and
so on and so on—but all plausible, all with precise truth-likeness.
Many of our present-day magazine stories are of
Stories of this
type
this type. Of the earlier modern, the "Diamond
Lens" by Fitz-James O'Brien is interesting. "The
Spider's Eye" is still sometimes read. "The Life Magnet" is well
known. A burlesque verse tale of mechanical invention is "The
Wonderful One Hoss Shay" by Oliver Wendell Holmes. The prince of
all ingenious story-tellers, however, is Frank R. Stockton.
To construct a narrative of this class, you must of course first get
your underlying theory. Experiments in the chemical and physical
laboratory will afford many a starting point. They will at least
suggest the realm in which to proceed. Astronomy, meteorology,
geology, mechanics, mineralogy, geometry, optics, domestic science
even,—select a simple problem in any of these and begin to imagine.
After you have the starting point, it is a good idea
Suggestions on
how to write the
to fix your goal. Where should you like to go, what
type should you like to do, what powers should you like
to have above those of your fellows? Do you wish to
overcome the restrictions of distance, absence, darkness, death,
birth, poverty, the past, the future, the present?
With these points of your theory settled, you must then look to the
course of events. Shall the incidents befall you while discovering or
while applying the scientific fact, while constructing or while working
your machine? Shall you be looking forward or shall you be looking
back upon the events? Next you must find the point of greatest
stress. The climax of a story with the first alternative will evidently
be reached at the culmination of the inventor's labors; with the
second alternative, at the most exciting adventure in the use of the
machine or in the direct application of the scientific fact.
The logical close of the story is in both cases the disappearance of
the machine or the scientist; but you will be repaid by thinking
carefully over this matter and being here as elsewhere as ingenious
and original as you can.
Your deductions must appear to be sound. Of course, your
reasoning may have to be largely specious and in the gross, as it
were, unless you are a better inventor than the inventors. But you
have this advantage over the practical man: you can avoid the
greater difficulties by keeping silent about them; and for actual
achievement you can substitute assertion. You must seem on the
surface, however, to be perfectly logical. The reader will not question
you too closely, if you are only spirited and entertaining. But the
next is a point that you must note without fail.
If the reader's interest in any particular part of your narrative will
depend upon an understanding of a bit of mechanism or a scientific
theory, you must be careful to supply the information beforehand.
However trite to a mechanic or a scientist the principle may be, you
must not assume that the casual reader knows it. He probably does
not know it, or if he does, more than likely he has forgotten it. On
the other hand, you must not appear to be self-assertively
instructing him. What you can do is this: you can politely seem to be
recalling something to his memory, and can thus make the point
clear, so that your future use of it will not fall flat.
To add a semblance of reality, it will be permissible to employ a few
technical terms; but these also must be indisputably clear in
meaning, and their use must not be pedantic. You should study,
however, to put into the mouths of your characters the vocabulary
that would be actually used by the kind of people you represent.
Genial humor is a fine asset to a writer of this type of narrative. If
you can be artistically serious and philosophically gay at the same
time you will not fail to please. The relationship of stories of
scientific discovery and mechanical invention to imaginary voyages is
testified to by the reader's expectation of a display of wit. But in the
scientific, ridicule is softened down to genial logic. Although the aim
in this kind of narrative is good construction rather than character-
sketching, yet every neat touch of portraiture that you can add will
help draw your composition away from the mere exercise and
toward the literary production.
If you should choose your theory in the realm of art, you would by
that very choice raise your story above the ordinary—I mean to say,
of course, you would if you knew anything about art. Mr. Alexander
Wilson Drake knows a great deal about art and has given us, besides
many other beautiful surprises in Saint Nicholas and the Century,
some narratives embodying exquisite theories of shadow and color.
The Curious Vehicle
Reprinted by permission of the Century Company.

It was midnight in early December. A dense silver mist hid the
sleeping city, the street-lamps gave a faint yellow glimmer through
the almost impenetrable gloom, the air was like the cold breath from
the dying, the fog hanging in great drops on my clothing. Stray
policemen had taken refuge in sheltering doorways, and my own
footsteps echoed with unfamiliar and uncanny sound down the long
street—the only sound that broke the midnight stillness, save the
hoarse whistles of wandering and belated ferryboats on the distant
river.
As I emerged from a narrow street into the main thoroughfare, my
shivering attention was attracted to a curious covered vehicle
standing in the bright glare of an electric light. It was neither
carriage nor wagon, but an odd, strongly made affair, painted olive
green, with square windows in the sides, reaching from just above
the middle of the roof, and a smaller window in the back near the
top. On each side of the middle window were two panels of glass.
From the middle window only a dim light shone, like the subdued
light from a nurse's lamp. On the seat in front, underneath a
projecting hood, sat a little old black man wrapped in a buffalo-robe
and a great fur coat partly covered with a rubber cape or
mackintosh, and with a fur cap pulled down over his ears. The horse
was heavily blanketed, and also well protected with rubber covers.
Both man and beast waited with unquestioning patience. Both
seemed lost in reverie or sleep.
With chattering teeth I stood, wondering what could be going on in
that queer box-like wagon at that time of night. The silence was
oppressive. There stood the dimly lighted wagon; there stood the
horse; there sat the negro—and I the only observer of this queer
vehicle.
I stepped cautiously to the side of the wagon, and listened. Not a
sound from within. Shivering and benumbed, I, too, like the
policemen, took refuge in a doorway, and waited and watched for
some sound or sign from that mysterious interior. I was too fond of
adventure to give it up. It seemed to me that hours passed and I
stood unrewarded. Just as I was reluctantly leaving, much chagrined
to find that I had waited in vain, I saw, thrown against the window
for a few moments only, a curious enlarged shadow of a man's head.
It seemed to wear a kind of tam-o'-shanter, below which was a
shade or visor sticking out beyond the man's face like the gigantic
beak of a bird. A mass of wavy hair and beard showed underneath
the cap. Suddenly the shadow disappeared, much to my
disappointment, and although I watched in the fog and dampness
for half an hour longer, it did not again appear.
I wandered home, puzzled and speculating, but determined that I
would wait until morning if I were ever fortunate enough to come
across the vehicle again. Weeks passed before the opportunity
occurred, and even then, had it not been for a very singular incident,
I doubt if I should ever have fathomed the mystery of the curious
vehicle.
It was Christmas eve, the night bitterly cold. I had clothed myself in
my thickest ulster. My feet were incased in arctics, my hands in
warm fur gloves, and with rough Scotch cap I felt sure I could brave
the coldest night. Thus equipped, I started out, and when I returned
at midnight in the beginning of a whirling, almost blinding
snowstorm, the Christmas chimes were ringing, and the whole air
seemed filled with Christmas cheer.
Turning a corner, I discovered the vehicle in the same place and
position. This time, as I had before resolved, I would wait until
morning if necessary. So I began pacing up and down the sidewalk
in front of the vehicle, taking strolls of five or ten minutes apart, and
then returning. I walked until I was almost exhausted. In spite of my
heavy ulster I began to feel chilly, so I again took refuge in the
doorway of a building opposite.
Should I give it up, I asked myself, after waiting so long? I stood
debating the question. No, I would wait a little longer; so, puffing
my pipe, I shivered, and watched for developments. At last I was
about determined that I must go or perish, when suddenly I saw
through the blinding snow the shadow of a pair of hands appear at
the dimly lighted window, adjusting a frame or inner sash. You can
imagine my interest in the proceedings.
Just at this moment a street sparrow, numb with the cold, and
crowded from a window-blind by its companions, dropped, half
falling, half flying, to the sidewalk directly in front of the window of
the vehicle. It sat blinking in the bright rays of the electric light,
quite bewildered, turning its little head first one way, then the other.
In the meantime the shadows of the two hands were still visible.
The sparrow, probably attracted by the light and the movement of
the hands, suddenly flew up, not striking the glass, but hovering
with a quick motion of the wings directly in front of the window, its
magnified shadow thrown on it by the rays of the electric light. Then
the bird dropped to the ground. The occupant was evidently much
startled by the large shadow coming so suddenly and at such a time
of night. The shadow of his hands quickly disappeared, and so did
the frame. In another moment the door of the vehicle opened,
giving me a glimpse of a cozy and remarkable interior. It seemed, in
contrast with the cold and storm without, filled with warmth and
sunshine. It was like a pictorial little room rather than the inside of a
wagon or carriage. The occupant looked out in a surprised, excited,
and questioning way, as much as to say, "What could that have
been?" His whole manner implied that he had been disturbed.
This was my opportunity, and, seizing it instantly, I walked boldly to
the door of the vehicle, and said, "It was a little sparrow benumbed
with the cold, that fluttered down to the sidewalk, where it lay for a
moment, until, probably attracted by the light, it hovered for a few
seconds before your window, then fell to the ground again."
I felt the man eying me intently, studying me with a most searching
glance. Was he in doubt as to my sincerity? Was it a hidden bond of
sympathy between us that made him suddenly relent and invite me
to enter his vehicle? What else could have prompted him? For my
own part, I instinctively felt for the man, without knowing why, a
deep pity.
"Please step inside," he said; "it is cold."
And so, at last, I was really admitted, invited into the little interior—
that little interior which had piqued my curiosity for so long a time.
Yes, I was admitted at last, and now had a chance to look about,
and to study the general appearance of the occupant as he moved
over for me to sit beside him on the roomy, luxurious seat. What a
curious personality! He was a tall, raw-boned man of strong
character. His soft, gray beard and hair made a marked contrast to
the dark surroundings. Now I understood the shadow which I had
seen thrown on the window for a few seconds. He wore a tam-o'-
shanter cap, and beneath it, to protect his eyes from the lamp-light,
a large visor, or shade, which threw his entire face into deep
shadow, giving him the look of a painting by an old master. He had
on a loose coat of some rough material.
Surely the interior of no conveyance could be more interesting than
this. In the front, just back of the driver, were two square windows
with sliding wooden shutters, and between the two was a little
square mirror. Above these was a rod, from which hung a dark-green
cloth curtain which could be drawn at will. Underneath was a chest,
or cabinet, of shallow drawers filling the entire width of the carriage,
with small brass rings by which to pull them out. On top of this
cabinet stood several clear glass jars half filled with pure water.
There were two or three oil-lamps with large shades hung in
brackets with sockets like steamer-lamps, only one of which was
lighted. Underneath the seat was a locker. On the floor of the
conveyance, along its four sides, were oblong bars of iron, and in
the center was a warm fur rug. One side only of the carriage
opened. On the side opposite the door was a rack reaching from the
window to the floor, in which stood six or eight light but strongly
made frames, over which was stretched the thinnest parchment-like
paper. The top of the vehicle was tufted and padded. The prevailing
color was dark green. In shape it was somewhat longer and broader
than the usual carriage. There was a small revolving circular
ventilator in front, over the mirror, which could be opened or closed
at will, and which could also be used by the occupant for conversing
with the driver.
The man arose, and, opening the ventilator, told the coachman to
drive on. Meanwhile I enjoyed the wonderful effect of the little
interior—its rich gloom, the strong light from the shaded lamp which
was thrown over the floor, the bright electric light gleaming through
the falling snow into the window on my left.
The night, being so disagreeable, made the interior seem very
bright and comfortable by contrast, as the man closed the sliding
wooden shutters, separating us entirely from the snowstorm
without. There was an artificial warmth which I could not
understand, and with it all a sense of security and coziness. The
stranger's manner was both gentle and reassuring. We rode in
silence over the rough pavement until we reached the smooth
asphalt. Then he began:
"I do not consider myself superstitious, but somehow I don't like it
—that little bird hovering in front of my window. It seems like a bad
omen, and it was a shadow which startled me. My life seems
haunted with shadows, and they always bring misfortune to me."
We were both silent for a time, when he went on: "How curious life
is! Here am I riding with you, a total stranger, long past midnight.
You are the first I have ever admitted into this wagon, with the
exception of my faithful Cato, who is driving. If one could only see
from the beginning how strangely one's life is to be ordered."
The stranger's voice was rich and deep. I hoped he would continue
so that I might get some idea of him and his peculiar mode of life,
and what was going on night after night in this interior. I waited for
him to proceed.
"Have you known trouble or sorrow in your life?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied; "I have lost nearly all who were dear to me in this
round world."
"Then," said he, "I will tell you my story with the hope that it will
be both understood and appreciated. I loved from childhood a
charming girl, sweet and pure. I need not go into the detail of all
that boyish love, but in my early manhood and her early womanhood
we were married—and what a sweet bride she was!
"We lived in an old white farmhouse in a village near the great city
—a beautiful place, a long, low, two-story-and-attic, farmhouse,
probably fifty or sixty years old. How well I can see it—its sloping
roof, the extension, the quaint doorway with side-lights and with a
window over the top, the front porch with graceful shaped newels,
the long piazza running the entire length of the extension, great
chimneys at each end, and enormous pine-trees in front of the
house! The house stood on a little elevation, with terraced bank, and
with a pretty fence inclosing it. Beyond was an old well with lattice-
work sides and door, and a pathway trodden by the foot of former
occupants, long since dead. In front of the house were circular beds
of old-time flowers—sweet-williams, lady's-slippers, larkspur, and
foxglove. At the rear, great banks of tiger-lilies threw their delicate
blue shadows against the white surface of our little home. In one
corner of our garden we had left the weeds to grow luxuriantly, like
miniature forest trees, and found much pleasure in studying their
beautiful forms. How fine they looked in silhouette against the
sunset sky! On one side of the old-fashioned doorway were shrubs
and a rose-of-Sharon tree, and on the other, honeysuckle and
syringa-bushes. There were also many kinds of fruit and shade-
trees.
"How happily we walked up and down the shady lanes of that little
village! For us the birds sang sweetly. We took delight in our flowers
and everything about us. In the evening we would enjoy the
sunsets, returning home arm in arm in the afterglow, to sit in the
cool of the evening on the piazza and to listen to the wind as it
sighed through the pines. What music they made for us! We
compared it with what poets of all ages had sung of them, and went
to sleep, lulled to rest by the wind through their soft boughs."
He paused again, evidently thinking of the happy time.
"How can I tell you," he resumed, "of the life that went on in that
simple old farmhouse? Our pleasant wood-fire on the hearth; a few
photographs from the old masters on the walls; our favorite books of
poetry and fiction, which we read together during the long winter
evenings, while the pine-trees sighed outside, and all was so
comfortable and cozy within; or the lovely walks in spring and
summer, through the byways of the pretty little village, with its
hedgerows, blackberries, and wild flowers. How we watched for the

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The Curious Vehicle

Reprinted by permission of the Century Company.

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