Authors: Travelers In Time

Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (262 page)

BOOK: Philip Van Doren Stern (ed)

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We
never
spoke
of
the
matter
again.
Two
months
later
he
told me
that
his
nerves
had
been
troubling
him,
and
that
he
was
going to
spend
a
month
or
six
weeks
at
a
farm
near
Llanthony,
in
the Black
Mountains,
a
few
miles
from
his
old
home.
In
three
weeks
I
got a
letter,
addressed
in
Secretan
Jones's
hand.
Inside
was
a
slip
of paper
on
which
he
had
written
the
words:

Est
enim
magnum
chaos.

The
day
on
which
the
letter
was
posted
he
had
gone
out
in
wild autumn
weather,
late
one
afternoon,
and
had
never
come
back. No
trace
of
him
has
ever
been
found.

Time
Out of Joint

^fe»£*>

^

§^

From
Tales of the Jazz Age,
by F. Scott Fitzgerald; copyright
1920, 1939,
by Charles Scribner's Sons; used by
permission of the pub-lishers.

Trie
Curious Case

of Benjamin Button

By F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

As
long ago as

i860
it was the proper thing to
be born at

home.
At
present,
so
I
am
told,
the
high
gods
of
medicine
have decreed
that
the
first
cries
of
the
young
shall
be
uttered
upon
the anesthetic
air
of
a
hospital,
preferably
a
fashionable
one.
So
young Mr.
and
Mrs.
Roger
Button
were
fifty
years
ahead
of
style
when they
decided,
one
day
in
the
summer
of
i860,
that
their
first
baby should
be
born
in
a
hospital.
Whether
this
anachronism
had
any bearing
upon
the
astonishing
history
I
am
about
to
set
down
will never
be
known.

I
shall
tell
you
what
occurred,
and
let
you
judge
for
yourself.

The
Roger
Buttons
held
an
enviable
position,
both
social
and financial,
in
ante-bellum
Baltimore.
They
were
related
to
the
This Family
and
the
That
Family,
which,
as
every
Southerner
knew, entitled
them
to
membership
in
that
enormous
peerage
which
largely populated
the
Confederacy.
This
was
their
first
experience
with
the charming
old
custom
of
having
babies—Mr.
Button
was
naturally nervous.
He
hoped
it
would
be
a
boy
so
that
he
could
be
sent
to Yale
College
in
Connecticut,
at
which
institution
Mr.
Button
himself
had
been
known
for
four
years
by
the
somewhat
obvious
nickname
of
"Cuff."

On
the
September
morning
consecrated
to
the
enormous
event he
arose
nervously
at
six
o'clock,
dressed
himself,
adjusted
an
impeccable
stock,
and
hurried
forth
through
the
streets
of
Baltimore
to the
hospital,
to
determine
whether
the
darkness
of
the
night
had borne
in
new
life
upon
its
bosom.

When
he
was
approximately
a
hundred
yards
from
the
Maryland Private
Hospital
for
Ladies
and
Gentlemen
he
saw
Doctor
Keene, the
family
physician,
descending
the
front
steps,
rubbing
his
hands together
with
a
washing
movement—as
all
doctors
are
required
to do
by
the
unwritten
ethics
of
their
profession.

Mr.
Roger
Button,
the
president
of
Roger
Button
&
Co.,
Wholesale
Hardware,
began
to
run
toward
Doctor
Keene
with
much
less dignity
than
was
expected
from
a
Southern
gentleman
of
that picturesque
period.
"Doctor
Keene!"
he
called.
"Oh,
Doctor
Keene!"