Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 January 1886 — A SAVAGE IN SOCIETY. [ARTICLE]

A SAVAGE IN SOCIETY.

A Practical Illustration of the Civil and the Social Code of Paris. Where was it that I read the following 'charming story? In Saintine, I think. Some sort of a savage —an Indian, perhaps—came to Pans to live permanently. He made a study of our ways and customs. In a drawing-room he had a discussion, and dealt to his opponent such square logic and common sense as floored him completely. So much was the adevrsary enraged that he slapped the savage’s face. “This is further proof,” said the latter, “that you are not right, for you have nothing but brute arguments left to you,” and, enchanted by this last victory, he looked around him with an air of triumph. In place of viewing smiles, however, he saw only stupefied faces and scornful eyes. He was astounded himself when a gentleman with a grave air, a face graced with whiskers, and wearing the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor, took him by the arm. “You are a stranger, are you not?” he asked. “I am.” “I felt sure you were. You are not familiar with our customs. After the outrage you have received a man of the world would send two friends to ‘demand reason’ from the assailant.” “What reason can I demand from a man that has none?” “Beason, such as you think of, has nothing to do with it. To demand reason simply means to propose single combat with the sword or pistol.” “Indeed! How strange. I shall conform with the custom immediately.” A meeting was had, pistols being chosen. The Indian, who was accustomed to hunt the tiger in his native jungle, promptly inserted a bullet between the two eyes of his antagonist, and killed him as dead as Moses. Shortly afterward he was summoned to answer for it. A gentleman in an official robe of red, wearing the cross of the Legion of Honor, demanded the infliction of severe punishment on the ground that it is time to do away with usages worthy of the barbarous ages. The poor d|vil turned his head to see this terrible accuser, and uttered an exclamation of surprise. “Why,” he cried, “you’re the very man that told me I must fight or be disgraced 1” “Silence!” exclaimed the President of the court. The prisoner was sentenced to six days’ imprisonment and a fine of S4O. When all was over he called upon the Advocate General and said: “What sort of a joker are you? It was you who told me that I must fight!” The amiable magistrate shook him by the hand smilingly: “Of course; when I spoke to you in that way it was as a man of the world; in court I spoke as a magistrate. Do you grasp the shading?” “Faith, I don’t.” “Well, you will by and by. You are not quite used to our ways as yet.”— London World.