TINKHAM’S CURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3619, 24 July 1923, Page 66

TINKHAM’S CURE.

By

L. D. Shaw.

(Copyright.) Silas Tinkham laughed. If it had been anybody but Tinkham there would be nothing more to say about it. Some philosopher had defined man as an animal who laughs, and as Silas was a man it might be supposed that his laughter was the most commonplace thing imaginable. Quite the contrary. His laugh caused a positive sensation in Woodville, conversation about it was lively even as far away as North P’arms, and at Dobbs Mills, when a passing farmer paused to speak of it the workmen stood still, staring, long enough to exclaim “Gee!” in tones of deep amazement. Tou see, Tinkham had never laughed before at all events not Yvithin the memory of mortal man. His invincible solemnity was the standing wonder of the neighbourhood. Speculation had long since exhausted itself in seeking for the cause °I fiis gloom. An unfortunate love affair had been invented, only to be discarded when investigation revealed that Pinkham had never been in any sense a ladies man. He had never so much o.s asked a girl if he might see her home from the church tea or the prayer meeting. Then the neighbours thought it might be chronic dyspepsia, but Tinkham’s sister declared for it that there wasn’t a man in the whole country who had such a destructivelv healthy appetite and outfit of digestive organs ; and the neighbours allowed that the sister ought to know for Silas, being unmarried, lived with her. And so the guessing as to causes went on, while numerous vain efforts were made to chase the cloud from Tinkham’s face, even if it were only for a moment, lie was adamant to ancient chestnuts and the newest importations from the variety theatres of Boston alike, and not even a liberal dosing of whisky, mixed surreptitiouslv with his cider brought about so much as the crack of a smile Victory ever perched sadly upon his sombre brow until at last the neighbours gave it up. The man’s awful melancholy seemed contagious if you lingered long with hinq, and nobody in Woodville cared to run much risk of losing all possibilities of merriment in life. Therefore, when Tinkham did laugh nobody understood him. That is, no one suspected that the strange sounds issuing from his throat and the extraordinary contortions of his features indicated risibility. The neighIxuirq .simply thought that he wasn’t well. What s % the matter, Si ?” asked one of them, leaning on the fence and looking over at the strange antics of the melancholy man. Tinkham was in an uncultivated lot at a little distance from his house. His face was flushed, his mouth wide open, his eyes watery. He waved his arms around, alternatively bent over and leaned hack, and all the time yelped and squealed and uttered unintelligible words, without cessation. “Anything gone wrong, Silas?” continued the neighbour. “Got a tech of chulery morbus?” “Haw-haw-whoop! He-he-he! Hur-r-r----r-yah !” responded Tinkham tearfully. You see, never having laughed before, he hadn t the hang of the thing, and needed practice, not to sav instruction. “Br-r-wah-wah!” Tinkham went on. “On Lord! Ha, ha! Oh, oh!' Hold me, somebody. Haw-haw !” The sympathetic neighbour, now thoroughly alarmed, promptly climbed over the fence and took hold of Tinkham by the shoulders. “Shan’t I lay ye down, Si?” said he, solicitously, “or help ye to the house?” No. no! Haw-haw!” answered Tinkham. “Give me room! Haw-haw! Hehe ! Oh, Moses! Haw ! Jest hold me ! Haw—“l’ll hold ye, Si,” returned the neighbour, a little irritably, “but shet up, can t ye, and tell me what’s the matter.” But Tinkham couldn’t “shet up.” He continued his extravagant demeanor as violently as before. “Hang ye!” exclaimed the neighbour. “Ef ’twas any other man I sh’d say ye was laffin’.” “I am laffin’!’’ gasped Tinkham, in the course of his haw-hawing. The neighbour let go and stood back a pace, overcome with astonishment. “What in thunderation has happened to ye?” he managed to inquire, after a moment. With considerable difficulty and many a break, for Tinkham kept on laughing, the explanation was made. It seemed that on the day previous a party of surveyors had passed through Woodville, marking out the line of a new railroad. The line they fixed upon ran through the longest diameter of Tinkham’s property, and the price that would be paid for his land would make him rich enough to live the rest of his life without labour. This unexpected good fortune had done what all the good humour and jokes of his neighbours had failed to do, and Tinkham laughed. That would have been very wed if it had stopped there. The neighbour who first discovered the phenomenon went home highly pleased. Not at all jealous of Tinkham’s prosperity he thought only of the lifting of that cloud of gloom that had hung over Woodville so many' years. Of course he told others, and they" went up to Tinkham’s to see and hear for themselves. For a few days the general amusement was satisfactory, but Tinkham never stopped his laughing, and with steady application he improved, so that the manifestation was more regular and less marked by spasmodic yelps. But by and by all this became tiresome. The man’s voice grew stronger by use, and the people couldn’t sleep at night. Even in the daytime their atention was distracted from their employments by the harsh, grating guffaws that came from the Tinkham’s place. So eventually the neighbours were more heartily desirous that Tinkham should stop laughing than ever they had been that he should begin.

They besought him to De sensible. He laughed the harder. They called him a downright fool, in those very words. It tickled him almost to death. They told him he was a common nuisance. His louder laughter bade them defiance. They resorted to trickery. One of them rushed up to him with every appearance of great excitement. “Si!” said he, “our house is on fire!” “Haw! haw! haw!” howled Tinkham, gleefully. “I’ll build another with the money the railway will pay ! Haw ! haw! Let ’er burn!” Somewhat disheartened by their failure the neighbours consulted physicians. The medical .men suggested that possibly it might be well to apply to the court for a commission “de lunatico inquirendo” ; nothing else would do, for Tinkham was actually getting fat with his laughter. The neighbours shrank from incarcerating their old friend in an asylum though it did seem as if the entire community would be driven mad if the man did not give over his laughing, and one of them suggested another device If it failed it was agreed that the lunacy commission should be invoked. Mrs Higgins, thrice a widow, was persuaded to help. This estimable lady was endowed by Nature with features that kept her in v continual trouble to tell the time of day. Few clocks could keep at work in her presence. Furthermore, her disposition—well, the perfect resignation on the faces of the three departed suggests more than is necessary to state here. She really performed a great public service for Woodville, and so it need only be said that her sour temper had long stood as a local wonder only second in importance to Tinkham’s former solemnity. A committee of citizens accompanied Mrs Higgins to Tinkham’s place. Leaving her in the sitting room they went into the kitolien, where Silas was practising his new accomplishment. “Si,” said the spokesman, “vou’re now a well-to-do man, and you’ve got to think of your responsibilities. You had ought to settle down; he a sober citizen and a family man like the rest of us. We’ve decided that you’d better git married. Now that you’re rich you've got no excuse for being an old bach, any longer.” “He ! liee !” snickered Tinkham. “I'm rich enough to support 40 families. Haw ! haw ! Bring in the bride, neighbours, and I’ll marry her. Haw! haw!” “We hev brung her Si,” returned the spokesman, gravely, “and she’s waitin for ye in the settin’ room. Go in and make the arrangements.” Surprised, evidently, Out as evidently regarding the affair as additional cause for merriment, and laughing louder than ever, Tinkham went to the sitting room door. Mrs Higgins, adorned with her severest expression, held out her hand. “Take me, Silas,” she said in her most frigid tones, “I am yourn.” Tinkham’s laughter stopped with appalling suddenness. For one instant he stood as if paralysed. Then, with a howl of terror, he turned about and fled to the woods near by r . Long after dark he crept back to his house and tapped nervously at the window. His sister opened it. “Has she gone?” he asked. “Yes,” answered his sister, who was in the plot, “but she says she’s bound to marry you because you’re the most cheerful man in the place. She’s a determined woman, Si (he knew that) and she’ll catch you sure if evex you go on laughing as you’ve been a-doing for a month.” “I wish th’ railroad hed never come,” chattered Tinkham, “but ef forty railroads was to come I’d never laugh again.” He kept his word. Since then he has not even smiled, and Mrs Higgins found her fourth elsewhere.