Tombstone epitaph., 1915-10-24


 Liverpool Street station. suitcase in hand. entered the same frst-class compartment. felt sure he would not knoE me. but still l was relieved to see no glance of recognition. He looked at me blankly. shifted his seat 10 the far corner of the carriage. took up his Pail Mall and began to read it. Presently he leaned back against the cushions and. drawing a little volume from his pocket. commenced to study it. By the lights of a station into which we drew l saw that it was an essay of Schopenhauer. l tried two or three times to draw him into conversation. but he only looked up at me and grunted. l watched him closely. From the fact that he searched twice for his glasses while they were on his nose deduced that he was a5sent-minded. It seemed feasible. if I could hit on the idea. to lose him en route. But that necessi- tated some form of acquaintance. ard when We stepped aboard the night boat from Harwich to Flushing I real. ized that he was still as far beyond my grasp as ever.
 He stayed in his cabin. a victim of seasickness. during the entire evening. l narrowly missed him at Flushing. caught him at the railroad station, and once more secured a seat in the same compartment with him. l could see that he had no remembrance of our having travelled together from London. He was still reading his Schopenhauer when a brilliant idea came to me.
 bent toward him and touched him on the arm.
 Excuse me-" said. but I see that you are interested in my fathers fla nous work. The Will as Idea" He turned his heavy face on mine, blinking.
 "You-you are the son of Arthur Schopenhauer?" he inquired in aston ishment
 T have that honor." l answered. But as you are doubtless aware, my fathers relatives did not take to his marriage with an Englishwoman kindly. In fact, I was brought up in England and"
 But thought Arthur Schopenhauer was a bachelor" he exclaimed.
 Heaven forgive me for belyins my percentage. What cock-and- bull story told him about an indiscreet marriage in youth l cannot remember. 1 felt, however, that l had convinced him. 1 I knew. too. that much Of the philoso- pher's early life was obscure. In half an hour we were firm friends and dis cussing the Will to Be and the Thing. in-Itself with all the subtlety of one steeped in philosophical lore and an- other racking his brains for fragments of his university learning in the long ago
 There was an hours wait at Ant werp. and here I resolved to put my scheme into execution. We had to change; on one platform stood the Dusseldorf train. on another the Co logne. The latter was ours; N ran straight through to Berlin. We had our sleeping berths.
 In the middle of our lunch in the station waiting room I found the ex- cuse to absent myself and gather these particulars. When I returned the old gentleman was coming from the bookstand. where he had been purchasing a German magazine with an unpronounceable name. We sat down and chatted awhile. and fortu- nately. as it seemed. he gave me my clue.
 T am a wretched traveller" he said. q am wholly at sea when I go by train, and unfortunately a little deaf have to throw myself upon the mercy of my compatriots. You are going through to Berlin?"
 Unfortunately mo-" I answered. Fl am afraid we part here Mr-"
 "Hallam." he answered, without . moments hesitation.
 Your route lies through Cologne" l told him That is your train" And I indicated the one running to Dus- seldorf, which had been indicated to me by an officious functionary who had confronted me as soon as I left the buffet. and pointed to his Cooks tourist badge.
 Tt starts in a few minutes" added, helping the old gentleman toward a carriage.
 Grasping his umbrella. magazines and Schopenhauer. he suffered me to takc charge of him. I deposited him in . corner. closed the window at his bequest, and stood outside. endeavor- ing by tales of my father :o prevent his hearing the stentorian shouts Of the porters. though l confess I heard Dusseldorf" and Cologne" shouted indiscriminately on all sides
 "Good-by." l said, as the porter came along. slamming the doors.
 "Good-by. Mfr. Schopenhauer." he said. with . warm hand clasp. We must meet again in London. You must call on me. r."
 But the rest of his voice was lost as his train glided out of the station, and crossed the platform, conscious that I had carried out the more i'm portant part Of my mission in the most satisfactory manner.