The Sad Story of a Lost Memory
I had not noticed the man sitting beside me in the bus until he addressed me.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, "but is my face familiar to you by any chance?"
I turned and studied him for a second or two. I was able to assure him that he was an entire stranger to me. He did not seem at all surprised. "It was just a chance," he said. "You see, sir. I am under the disadvantage of not knowing who I am."
"I have just returned from a voyage," he continued, "during the course of which I had the misfortune to lose my memory. I under- stand from received information that 1 was sitting one fine day on
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the deck of the ship, when suddenly the ship gave a lurch and I fell on to my head and was unconscious for three days. During this period all my possessions on the ship were stolen and all trace of my identity removed. Even the name of my tailor was cut out from the suit I was wearing. I didn't know anything about myself and I was unknown to any of my fellow-passengers. Everyone agreed that there was only one possible remedy, namely, that I should receive another violent blow on the head, which would, as all the authorities say, restore my memory to its former state.
The idea was taken up enthusiastically, and I gladly admitted that all the ship's crew and also the passengers did what they could for me in this respect.
It became quite customary for everyone who met me to hit me playfully over the head with all possible weapons.
With all these helps I received a great many blows on the head, but my memory stubbornly refused to return."
The stranger paused in his recital.
I raised my walking stick. "This is but a poor weapon, I'm afra-
id," I said. "Still, any little service I can render..."
"No, no," said the stranger hurriedly, "the time for that is past.
I am now gathering funds to enable me to prosecute inquiries at
the port from which the boat sailed, and should you, kind sir..."
7
Irving Stone
At the Art Dealer's
The little bell on the front door rang. A stranger walked in. "That picture you have in the window," he said "That still life. Who is it by?"
"Paul Cezanne."
"Cezanne? I have never heard of him. Is it for sale?"
'Ah, no, alas, it is already..."
Madame Tanguy saw her chance. She quickly rose from the
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chair, pushed Tanguy out of the way, and ran up to the man eagerly.
"But of course it is for sale. It is a beautiful still life, is it not, Monsieur? Have you ever seen such apples before? We will sell it to you cheap, if you admire it."
"How much?"
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"How much, Tanguy?" asked Madame Tanguy raising her voice, Tanguy swallowed hard. "Three hundred..."
"Tanguy!"
"Well, one hundred francs!"
'A handred francs? I wonder..." said the stranger. "For an unk- nown painter... I'm afraid that's too expensive. I don't think I can afford it. I was only prepared to spend about twenty five."
The canvas was immediately taken out of the window and put before the customer,
"See, Monsieur, it is a big picture. There are four apples. Four apples are a hundred francs. You only want to spend twenty five. Then why not take one apple? The price is only twenty five francs." When the price was mentioned the man began to study the canvas with new interest. "Yes, that's all right. Just cut this apple
the full length of the canvas and I'll take it."
Madame Tanguy hurried to her apartment and returned with a pair of scissors. The end apple was cut off, wrapped in a piece of paper and handed to the man. He paid the money and walked out with the canvas under his arm. The spoiled masterpiece lay on the counter.
"My favorite Cezanne," cried Tanguy unhappily. "I'll miss it so!
I put it in the window. I wanted people to see it for a moment and
go away happy."
Madame Tanguy interrupted him. "Next time someone wants a
Cezanne and hasn't much money, sell him an apple. Take anything
you can get for it. They are worthless anyway, he paints so many of
them."
8
Frank J. Hardy
Looking for Work
A man stopped near a large plant. He had an old coat, old shoes, and no socks on. The man wanted to get some work. He was out of work. He could not buy bread, milk, and new clothes for his children. He went to the door, stopped and looked at his old coat and shoes, coughed and then opened the door.
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He came into a room, where he saw an old man.
"What can I do for you?" asked the old man.
"I want some work, please," said the poor man.
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"We have no work now," said the old man. "But when we have work, we give it only to people who have been at the war."
"I have been at the front. I have got a medal," said the poor man quickly. "Can you give me some work? I have been out of work for three years. I have done my best to get work, but I could not. They did not give us work when we came back from the front."
"I am sorry. We have no work now. Come later."
"I see," said the poor man, "I am sorry," and he left the room. He went into the street. He wanted to have a rest. He wanted some
hot soup and some bread. He went to other plants. Every day he went and asked for work. But he got no work. Every day they told him that there was no work. He could not go home and tell his wife that he could not get any work. He came to a fine house with a garden around
it. He went into the garden. A woman came out of the house.
"Could you give me some work?" the man asked. "I have done different garden work. Will you give me work in your garden?"
The woman looked at his poor clothes, and at his old shoes. She was frightened.
"Why have you come into the garden?" she cried. "I do not want
a worker in the house or in the garden. Go away! Leave the garden!"
"I have been at the front," cried the man. "I have fought for the country, for you, and now I have no work, no bread, no clothes!"
"Leave the garden! Quick!" shouted the woman and closed the door. The man went out into the street again. Evening came. It became colder, and it rained and rained. He began to cough. After
a time the man came to a bridge. He stopped there and looked at the river. Then he took his medal out of his pocket, looked at it and dropped it into the river.
9
O. Henry
At the Doctor's
My doctor took me to see a consulting physician. I liked him immensely. "Have you a pain in the back of your head?" he asked.
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I told him I had not.
"Shut your eyes," he ordered, "put your feet close together, and jump backward as fast as you can."
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I always was a good jumper with my eyes shut, so I obeyed. My head struck the edge of the bathroom door, which had been left open and was only three feet away. The doctor was sorry. He had overlooked the fact that the door was open. He closed it.
"Now touch your nose with your right forefinger," he said.
"Where is it?" I asked. "On your face," said he.
"I mean my right forefinger," I explained.
"Oh, excuse me," he said. He reopened the bathroom door, and
I took my finger out of the crack of it. "Now," he said, "gallop like
a horse for about five minutes around the room." I gave the best
imitation I could of a disqualified horse. Then he listened to my
chest again. The physician held up his forefinger within three inches
to my nose. "Look at my finger," he commanded.
He explaied that this was a test of the action of the brain. It seemed easy to me. I never once mistook his finger.
After asking me if I had a crazy grand-uncle or a cousin, the two doctors, the casual physician and the regular doctor, retired to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub for their consultation.
The doctors came out looking grave. They wrote out a diet list
to which I was to be restricted. It had everything that I had ever
heard of to eat on it except snails.
"You must follow this diet strictly," said the doctors.
"I'd follow it a mile if I could get one-tenth of what's on it," I
answered.
"Of next importance," they went on, "is outdoor air and exercise. And here is a prescription that will be of great benefit to you."
Then all of us took something. They took their hats, and I took my departure. I went to a druggist and showed him the prescription.
"It will be two dollars 87 cents for an ounce bottle," he said.
"Will you give me a piece of your wrapping cord?" said I.
I made a hole in the prescription, ran the cord through it, tied it around my neck, and went out.
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W. Saroyan
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