Mr. John Spout having concluded his explanatory remarks, the entire party went into the pistol-gallery before-mentioned, to have a crack at the iron man, with the pipe in his mouth.
The nature of Mr. Quackenbush's profession, that of a teacher, was not such as would make him familiar with the use of fire-arms, and, in point of fact, he had about as good a notion of pistol-shooting as a stage-horse has of hunting wild bees; but he resolved to try his hand with the rest. When it came to his turn to try, he spilled the priming, and fired the hair-trigger instrument, accidentally, four times, to the imminent danger of the bystanders, before he could be taught to hold it so that it wouldn't go off before he got ready. He finally got a fair shot, and succeeded in breaking a window immediately behind him, after which he concluded he would not shoot any more.
As the other side of the room was used for a bowling alley, the company proceeded to have a game of ten-pins; and here, again, Mr. Quackenbush distinguished himself. After dropping one ball on his toes, and allowing another to fall into a spittoon, he succeeded in getting one to roll down the alley; with his second ball, by some miraculous chance, he got a "ten-strike," knocking down, not only all the pins, but also the luckless youth who presided over the setting-up-department.
Having refreshed themselves, the party once more regained Broadway, and consulted as to what place should be visited next.
Mr. Spout suggested that he would like to smoke. Nobody dissented except Mr. Dropper, who said he had read the day previous, in the morning papers, that a Turkish elephant had arrived in town, and was on exhibition on Broadway, above the Metropolitan Hotel. Thinking that a comparison instituted between the Turkish quadruped and the one which it was their particular office to study, might be of benefit to the members of the club, in their investigations, Mr. Dropper suggested that the smoking be dispensed with, until they should come into the presence of the oriental animal. Onward the zoölogical specialists sped their way, sometimes marching in Indian file, and sometimes arm-in-arm, running over little boys, dirty dogs, drygoods boxes, low awnings and area railings, until at last Mr. Dropper cried "Halt!" before the portals of the den wherein the mysterious elephant, which had arrived from Constantinople, was concealed. It became a question who should lead in making an entrance. Boggs was fearful, Van Dam was afraid, Spout was cautious, Quackenbush would a little rather not, but Dropper's courage failed not, and he walked boldly into the outer temple, followed by his timid associates. Here they discovered a long counter, and a glass show-case, in which were displayed queer shoes, quaint tooth-picks, funny pipes, and singular ornaments. A glass jar, filled with a rose-pink fluid was also on the counter. A tall gentleman with a ferocious moustache, and a diminutive red cap, without a front-piece, met them. Mr. Quackenbush's curiosity was in a single direction; he said he wanted to go through the harem. They finally entered into the rear apartment. Here their wondering eyes beheld a long room, well lighted with gas. In the centre was a small basin, in which goldfish were indulging in their accustomed aquatic sports. On either side were arranged wide divans, covered with red drapery and high pillows. Small stands were arranged in front of them. Various parties were seated with novel inventions before them, suggested by the minds of ingenious Turks, to accomplish the destruction of the tobacco crop. The members of the Elephant Club placed themselves on the divans, and after they had arranged themselves to their satisfaction, their oriental friend approached them, and gave to each a "programme" of Turkish delicacies. Mr. Spout inquired what a nargillê was, and was informed that it was a water-pipe. Mr. Spout insisted that he preferred a pipe wherein fire, rather than water, was the element used. Mr. Boggs said he would take a chibouk on trial. Mr. Spout coincided, and called also for a chibouk. But Van Dam ordered three nargillês, one for himself, another for Dropper, and a third for Quackenbush. The chibouks were produced, and Boggs and Spout commenced smoking in earnest.
In the mean time, the nargillês were produced for the other members of the club. Van Dam backed down at their first appearance. The glass vase, having in it water below and fire above, looked suspicious, and added to that was a mysterious length of hose, which was wound about in all directions, commencing at the fire, and running around the vase, about the table legs, over the chair, back through the rounds, about his legs, around his body, and finally came up over his shoulder, and terminated in a mouth-piece. Mr. Van Dam's first sensations, after these preliminaries had been arranged, were that he was in imminent danger of his life, and acting upon this impulse, he obstinately refused to go the nargillê, remarking, that they might be harmless enough in the hands of the Turks, who knew how to use such fire-arms, but he thought prudence dictated that he should keep clear of such diabolical inventions.
smoking
Dropper and Quackenbush, however, had no fears, but their drafts on the fire, through the hose, were not honored with smoke. They exhausted the atmosphere in their mouths, but get a taste of smoke they could not, and, in despair, Mr. Quackenbush called in the proprietor for an explanation of the mysteries of fumigating à la Turque. In compliance with the request, the gentleman informed the amateur Turks that they must inhale the smoke. Dropper protested that he wouldn't make his lungs a stove-pipe to oblige anybody—even the sultan and his sultanas—and he accordingly dropped the hose, and ordered a chibouk. Quackenbush, however, made the effort, but a spasmodic coughing put an end to further attempts, and the result was that another chibouk was called for. Each member of the club began to feel himself sufficiently etherealized to aspire to a position in a Mahomedan heaven, where he could be surrounded by the spirits of numberless beautiful houris, when the attention of Mr. Spout was attracted to a young gentleman, seated on a divan, in the rear of the apartment.
newbie
He was smoking a ponderous chibouk, and the cloudy volumes sent forth from his mouth hung about his form, quite obscuring him from sight. Occasionally, however, he would stop to breathe, which gave the members of the club an opportunity to survey his appearance. He was a young man of about twenty-two years, small in stature, with a pale, delicate skin, and light hair, plastered down by the barber's skill with exactness. He had no signs of beard or moustache. He was evidently making mighty efforts to become a Turk. He sat on the divan, with his legs drawn up under him, adopting the Turkish mode of inhaling the smoke, and he followed one inhalation by another with such fearful rapidity that the first impulse of the uninitiated would have been to cry out fire. But he evidently didn't sit easy, for after a few minutes, he pulled his legs out from under him and stretched them out at full length, to get out the wrinkles. The Turkish manner of sitting was, evidently, attended with physical inconveniences, for, after about a dozen experimental efforts, he gave it up, put his heels on the table, and laid himself back against the cushions. Still, however, he continued to smoke unremittingly (as if to make up in that what he lacked in ability to sit in the Turkish posture). But it was soon manifest that the young man was suffering. His face was deathly pale, and, dropping his chibouk, he called out for his oriental host. The gentleman in the red cap appeared, and the sufferer informed him that he "felt so bad," and he placed his hand on his stomach, denoting that as the particular seat of his difficulty. The benevolent Turk suggested exercise out of doors, and, as the elephant hunters were about going out, they offered to accompany him to his home. The offer was accepted, and the youth, sick in the cause of Turkey, left, supported by Dropper and Quackenbush.
A walk of a few squares relieved the young gentleman of the extremely unpleasant sensations, when he begged leave to express his thanks to the gentlemen for their kindness. He took occasion to inform them that his name was John I. Cake, late a resident of an interior town in Illinois, where his parents now reside. He was, at present, living in New York with an uncle, who was a banker in Wall-street, under whose tuition he was learning rapidly how to make inroads upon the plunder of his neighbors, without being in danger of finding his efforts rewarded with board and lodging at the expense of State. He had been educated at a country college, and knew nothing of city life, except what he had seen in Wall street.
Mr. Spout said that he was very happy to have met him, and inquired whether he would like to have an opportunity of seeing the elephant.
Mr. John I. Cake said that nothing would please him better. Mr. Spout proceeded at once to inform him that the gentlemen who were present were members of an organization gotten up for that express purpose, and which was known among themselves as the Elephant Club; further he said to Mr. Cake, that if he desired to join, they would administer the obligation to him that evening, and initiate him into the order.
Mr. Cake said by all means. At this time the party had reached the front of a church, in the shadow of which they stopped. Mr. Spout, as Higholdboy, announced that the Elephant Club was now organized. "Mr. Cake," said he, "step forward and receive the obligation."
Mr. Cake did step forward with a bold and determined step.
Mr. Spout continued: "Let your arm," said he, "hang in an easy position from the right shoulder. Now let the digits of your other hand point 'over the left.' Now then, Mr. John I. Cake, late of the State of Illinois, but now encircled with, the moral atmosphere of Wall street, you do solemnly swear, by the sacred horn spoons, that you desire to become a member of the Elephant Club, that you are willing, on becoming a member, to do as you please, unless it pleases you to do something else; that you will never kick a big Irishman's dog, unless you think you are smart enough to thrash his master; that you will be just as honest as you think the times will economically allow; that you will, under no circumstances buy and smoke a 'penny grab,' so long as you have philanthropic friends who will give you Havanas. All of this you solemnly swear, so help you John Rogers."
"Perhaps," was the response of Mr. John I. Cake.
"Having given the correct response," said the Higholdboy, "you are pronounced a member of the Elephant Club, when you shall have duly favored us with the initiative sit down."
"Good!" said Mr. Cake, "where shall it be?"
"Wherever good oysters are to be procured," said Mr. Dropper.
"Here you are, then," remarked Quackenbush, as he pointed to a sign over a subterranean door-way, over which was inscribed the words,
"Here are the spot
Where good oysters is got."
The club descended into the saloon, and Mr. Cake called for six half dozens on the half shell.
Now, be it known to the readers of these records, that Mr. Cake was unacquainted with the perfection to which many departments of manual labor had reached, and being naturally of an inquiring turn of mind, he stayed outside to watch the feats of the young man who brandished the oyster-knife. This gentleman was an adept at his profession. With the most perfect grace of motion, he would lift the oyster in his left hand, lay its edge gently on a small iron standard, give that edge two delicate raps with the butt of the oyster-knife as a signal to the oyster that its turn had now come, when immediately the shells would open, the upper half would jump off and fall below, and the oyster would smile at the young man as he took the knife, and delicately stroked down its beard. All of this transpired in a very short period of time, which, with the artistic grace displayed by the professor, was sufficient to astound Mr. Cake. Indeed, he had entirely forgotten his companions in his admiration of conchological anatomy.
oysters
The oysters were placed before the gentlemen, and partaken of with a relish. But Mr. Cake had not seen enough to gratify his wishes. He ordered another dose all around, and again took his position outside to watch the operation of divesting the oysters of one half of their natural exterior protection. Without doubt, the young man's merits, at his particular vocation, were great; but Mr. Cake magnified them, in his intense admiration, most alarmingly. To him, it seemed as if each particular oyster was waiting for its turn to come, and only wanted a wink from the young man, when it would jump into his grasp, proud that it was permitted so soon to be sacrificed by such a hand. Mr. Cake was transfixed; he never moved his eyes until the second, third and fourth installment of shell-fish were served up.
Mr. Boggs then spoke about drinks. Johnny protested that he never drank anything that would intoxicate—in fact, he was an uncompromising teetotaller. Still, however, he had no objections to treating the crowd, as that would give him an opportunity to remain a few minutes more with the object of his admiration. He continued to watch the motions, whilst his friends were doing justice to the spirituous decoctions. At last Mr. Spout told Johnny that it was time to go. Johnny went to the bar, paid the bill, and, as the party regained the street, Johnny Cake said, with a sigh, that he only wished he were an oyster, that he, too, might be the willing victim of that young man's knife. But, inasmuch as he was not, it was his intention to gratify his desire to see the young man's manipulations by coming every night until he was satisfied.
It is a fact which may be asserted, that Mr. Johnny Cake, as the members of the club had now learned to call him, with forty "oysters and the fixens" on board, did not walk with much apparent comfort.
The club stopped to deliberate, but in the midst of their deliberations the City Hall bell sounded, and instantly commenced all that furious uproar peculiar to Gotham at the sound of an alarm of fire. A crowd of screaming men and boys came tearing along, dragging Engine No. 32½, which hung back and jumped about, as if determined not to go at any hazard. About half a block in advance of this crazy throng rushed a frantic man, with a red shirt and a tin trumpet. Each individual yelled as if the general resurrection were at hand, and he under special obligations to wake up some particular friend. The rheumatic engine held back with all its power, and seemed, for the moment, endowed with a kind of obstinate vitality. Now it threw its wheel round a lamp-post, then it tumbled against the curb-stone, then it ran its tongue into an awning, then affectionately embraced with its projecting arms a crockery-wagon, and finally, with a kind of inanimate dogged determination not to go ahead, in turning a short corner, it leaped triumphantly astride a hydrant, where it stuck. The men tugged, but the engine held fast; the frantic man in the red shirt came tearing back; he had gone far enough ahead to see that 13¼'s boys had got their stream on the fire, and he was furious at the delay. One mighty jerk, and the men and boys were piled in a huge kicking mass on the pavement, which phenomenon was occasioned by the unexpected breaking of the rope. The rope was tied, and by a united effort directed at the wheels, the brakes, the tongue, and every get-at-able point, the machine was again started, protesting, with creaks, and groans, and various portentous rumblings in its inner works, against the roughness of its treatment.
The frantic red-shirt-man howled through his trumpet that Hose 243/8 was coming. The boys looked back, and Hose 243/8 was coming. Hose 243/8 came alongside. Hose 243/8 tried to go by. Hose 243/8 was evidently striving to get to the fire in advance of her betters, but Hose 243/8 couldn't do it—for, at this interesting juncture, 32½'s fellows waked up to their work, and the race began. Single gentlemen got into door-ways, or crawled under carts; the ladies who were in the street at that time of night disappeared down oyster-cellars; the M.P.s probably went through the coal-holes, for not one was at that instant "visible to the naked eye." Stages, to get out of the way, turned down alleys so narrow that they had to be drawn out backwards; an express-wagon was run into, and wrecked on a pile of bricks; an early milk-cart was left high and dry on a mountain of oyster-shells; a belated hand-cart-man deserted his vehicle in the middle of the street, and it was instantly demolished, while the owner was only preserved from a similar fate by being knocked gently over a picket-fence into an area, where there couldn't anybody get at him. In the height and very fury of the race, the crowd rushed upon the Elephantines, who were gazing in fancied security at the mixed-up spectacle before them. In an instant they were all inextricably entangled in the rush; those that escaped 32½ were caught up instantly by 243/8, and those who got away from 243/8, were seized upon by 32½. It was no use resisting—on they must go. The ponderosity of John Spout was no protection to him; nor did the lankness of Dusenbury Quackenbush, and the unreliable appearance of his legs, avail him anything. The quiet inoffensiveness of Van Dam was not respected; no regard was paid to the philosophical composure of Mr. Remington Dropper. The youthful face of Johnny Cake, too, availed nothing in his favor. Mr. Boggs became involved, and all were irretrievably mingled with the howling demi-devils who were racing for the miniature purgatory, the flames from which could now be plainly seen. It was "No. 1, round the corner," the residence of "My Uncle," and each one was anxious to redeem his individual effects without going through the formality of paying charges and giving up the tickets.
fight
But their very anxiety was a serious bar to their rapid progress: and the two machines were jammed together by the zealous rivals. Hard words ensued, and a general row was the instant and legitimate result. Quackenbush was complimented with a lick over the head with a trumpet, in the hands of the frantic red-shirt-man, who accused him of locking the tongue of 243/8 into 32½'s wheel. Dropper had his hat knocked over his eyes, and thereupon, his indignation being roused, he hit out, right and left. His first vigorous blow inflicted terrific damage upon the amiable countenance of his best friend, Mr. Van Dam, and the very first kick he gave upset Mr. John Spout upon the protruding stomach of a man who had been knocked down with a spanner. John quickly recovered himself, and hit Van Dam a clip in the sinister optic, which placed that useful member in a state of temporary total eclipse. The battle became general, and each man waged an indiscriminate war upon his neighbor. Between the affectionate thrashing they gave each other, and the indiscriminate kicks and punches they received from outsiders, the Elephantines were well pommelled. By the time 32½ and 243/8 had got out of the muss, and were fairly on their way to the fire again, Mr. John Spout was the only one of that fraternal band visible on his feet. Dropper was doubled up across a hydrant, Van Dam was comfortably reposing on his back, in the middle of the street, while Quackenbush was sitting on him, trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes, and to ascertain, as nearly as possible, the number of teeth he had swallowed. But when the members came together to make mutual explanations, Johnny Cake was non est. Great, indeed, was the cry that was heard after the missing member. Quackenbush bellowed out, in a heavy, sonorous voice, that the difficulty was all past, when Johnny's shrill voice was heard in response. The voice proceeded from an empty molasses hogshead, into which Johnny had jumped, during the melee, for safety. His brother-members released him from his situation, and, when he was once more on Gotham's pavement, he was literally a sweet case. Dirty sugar adhered to every part of his exterior. Explanations were then made, and the members proceeded to shake hands all round, except Mr. Dropper, who couldn't shake hands with anybody, because some one had upset a bucket of tar on his fingers, and he couldn't get it off.
The matter being at length arranged to the satisfaction of all concerned, they adjourned from the sidewalk to a beer-shop, where they washed their faces, pinned up the rents in their pantaloons, and got the jams out of their hats, as well as they could upon so short a notice. They then found their way to the club-room, held a council, and without a great deal of deliberation, it was resolved, every man for himself:
That, to prevent the future possibility of all the members of the club having black eyes at the same time, the members would, from this time forth, pursue their investigations singly, or in pairs—the optical adornment of a single person being bearable, but for all the club to be simultaneously thus affected, was a phenomenon not down in the bills.
The club then adjourned for convalescence.
"Dogs bark."—Shakespeare.
AS soon as the members of the Elephant Club had recovered their normal appearance, each issued forth alone to catch further glimpses of the colossal quadruped of the metropolis. Each was assiduous in pursuing his investigations, and all manifested a spirit of self-denial worthy of martyrs in the cause of scientific research. The quantity of bad liquors they drank in forming new acquaintances, it were useless to estimate; the horrible cigars they smoked with those acquaintances are beyond computation, and yet they never flagged for a moment. After a few days, thus passed, the Higholdboy thought it time the club should hear the reports of its members. He, accordingly, put up on the bulletin a notice, stating that he expected the attendance of every member on a certain evening.
The evening came, and with it came the members. The weather was sufficiently warm to admit of the windows being up, and a fine, cooling draught of air passed through the apartment. The gentlemen filled their pipes and proceeded to take it easy. Mr. Dropper hung himself upon two chairs; Boggs stretched himself upon a sofa; Van Dam took off his coat, rolled it up for a pillow, and laid himself out on the floor. Quackenbush put an easy-chair by the door, and seated himself there to act as sentinel. Mr. Spout, the Higholdboy, moved his official chair up to one of the windows, turned the back upon his fellow-members, seated himself, raised his feet to the window-casing, and said that, with his eyes looking out between the toes of his boots upon the tiles and chimney-pots, it could not be said he had seen any disorderly conduct, if the members should see fit to vary the monotony of the proceedings by getting up an extemporized row among themselves. Johnny Cake alone seemed aware that a necessity existed for the exhibition of proper dignity on the part of the meeting. He sat by the table proudly erect. His standing collar, neatly-tied cravat, and scrupulously clean exterior, corresponded with his prim deportment.
It became a serious question who should open his budget of experience first. There was no rule to coerce a member to commence; consequently, appeals were made to the magnanimity of each other. These were irresistible, and all suddenly became willing and even anxious to make the beginning.
Mr. Dropper, however, got the floor first. He insisted that he was not in the habit of appearing in large assemblies as a prominent participant in the proceedings, and, in consideration of this fact, he ventured to hope that his incipient efforts would not be judged of harshly.
Mr. Dropper's spasmodic modesty excited the boisterous mirth of his fellow-members.
Mr. Remington Dropper commenced:
"Gentlemen of the Elephant Club," said he, "the subject which I have to present for your consideration this evening is a remarkable instance of the genus homo which I accidentally came across in my peregrinations a few evenings since. I was returning home from the theatre, and in passing a door-way in Broadway, I discovered a man seated on the stone step, with his form reclining against the door-casing. The gas-light shone directly in his face, which revealed to me the fact that he was asleep. The singularity of his personal appearance could not fail to attract my attention, and I stopped to study his form, features, and dress, to determine, if I could, who and what he was. His face had evidently been put up askew. The corner of his mouth, the eye and eyebrow on one side were inclined downward, giving him a demure and melancholy look; but on the other side they were inclined upwards, which made that side show a continued grin. A front view of his face was suggestive of both joy and melancholy, which was equal to no expression at all, as the expression on one side offset that of the other. His coat, which was buttoned tightly about him, was neither a dress nor a frock, but the skirts were rounded off in front, making it a compromise between the two. His pants were also a go-between; they were neither white nor black, but in point of color, were a pepper-and-salt formation. The leg on one side was rolled up. On one foot was a boot, on the other a shoe. He wore a very dirty collar, which, on the laughing side of his face was Byronic, and on the solemn side, uncompromisingly erect. His hat was an antiquated shanghae—black on the crown and light underneath the brim. If a noun, he was certainly a very uncommon, but not strictly a proper noun. If a verb, he seemed to be passive. The tense of his general appearance it would be difficult to determine. Strictly, it was neither past nor present, nor was it in accordance with my ideas of the future. To a certain extent it was all three. His seedy exterior was the remains of the past, existing in the present, and existing prospectively in the future. His mood was subjunctive, full of doubt and uncertainty. Judging from his entire appearance, I could come to no other conclusion as respects his character, than that he was a combination of ups and downs, a concentration of small differences, a specimen of non-committalism in everything except an entire abstinence from water used as a means of purifying his body externally, and his clothing. His red nose led me to suspect that he did not bathe with cold water to an alarming extent inwardly. The individual was remarkable, not for what he was, but for what he was not.
"Such were my thoughts, gentlemen, and I determined to awake the unconscious sleeper, to see how far my conclusions were right. I shook him well, and accompanied my act with a peremptory order to 'get up.' After a moment he roused himself and looked at me, but immediately dropped his eyes. I commenced a dialogue with him, which, as near as I can recollect, was as follows:
"'What are you doing here?' said I.
"'Dun'no,' was the response.
"'You're certainly quite drunk.'
"'That is an offence against the law.'
"'Des'say.'
"'You've been arrested for drunkenness before.'
"'Werry like. But I 'aven't been a doin' nuthin' helse.'
"'But I've arrested you before,' said I, playing the policeman, in order to continue the conversation.
"'Des'say, hofficer; but did I hoffer any resistance?'
"'Your weight did.'
"'Vas it wiolent?'
"'You were too drunk to make any violent resistance.'
"'Des'say; I honly inquired for hinformation.'
"'What's your name?'
"'Vich name do you vant to know?'
"'Your whole name, of course.'
"'Bobinger Thomas.'
"'Where were you born, Thomas?'
"'Hingland.'
"'What is your business?'
"'My perwession?'
"'Yes.'
"'It's warious. I never dabbled with law, physic, or diwinity.'
"'I asked you what your profession is—not what it isn't.'
"'My perwession now, or vot it used to vos?'
"'Your present profession, of course.'
"'Vell—nuthin'.'
"'Well, what was your profession in the past?'
"'Vot do you vant to know for?'
"'I shall answer no questions; but you must. Now tell me what your past profession was.'
gogman
"'Dogs.'
"'Are you a dog-fancier?'
"'Poss'bly; I fancies dogs.'
"'What breed of dogs do you fancy?'
"'Them as I gets in Jersey.'
"'What do you do with the dogs that you get there?'
"'I vouldn't go into the business if I vos in your sitivation. It don't pay any more, 'cause there's so many coves as has inwested. I left 'cause it vos hoverdid.'
"'I hadn't the slightest intention of going into the business. I asked you for information.'
"'Glad to 'ear you say so. I vos halmost hutterly ruined in it.'
"'Well, what do you do with the dogs?'
"'I doesn't follow the perwession no more.'
"'I asked you what you did with the dogs you picked up in New Jersey.'
"'They muzzles dogs now more than they did vonce.'
"'Tell me what you did with the dogs.'
"'If you nab a cove for gettin' drunk vot do they do vith 'im?'
"'Are you going to answer my question?'
"'Vill they let me off if I tell vere I got the liquor?'
"'Look here, Thomas, answer my question.'
"'Vot do they do vith the coves as sells?'
"'I shan't trifle with you any longer. If you don't tell me what you do with the dogs, I shall enter a charge of vagrancy against you.'
"'Vell, I didn't sell 'em for sassengers.'
"'What did you sell them for?'
"'I didn't sell 'em.'
"'How did you dispose of them?'
"'Is old Keene varden of the penitentiary now?'
"'Tell me, now, what you did with the dogs.'
"'I took 'em to the dog pound.'
"'What did you do with them there?'
"'Vy, doesn't they muzzle cats the same as dogs?'
"'Look here, Thomas, you must answer my question without equivocation. I want to understand the details of this dog-business. What did you do with them at the dog-pound?'
"'For hevery dog as ve takes to the pound ve gets an 'arf a slum.'
"'Then it seems you caught your dogs in New Jersey, brought them to the New York dog-pound, and claimed for your philanthropic exertions the reward of a half a dollar, offered by ordinance for every dog caught within the limits of New York?'
"'Vell, if you'd been born into the perwession, you couldn't have understood its vays better.'
"'You are a sweet subject, certainly.'
"'Des'say.'
"'Are you not ashamed of yourself, to be found lying drunk in door-ways?'
"'B'lieve so.'
"'Are you not certain you are?'
"'Prob'bly.'
"'Did you drink liquor to-night?'
"'P'r'aps.'
"'Where did you get it?'
"'Dun'no.'
"'What kind was it?'
"'I halvays 'ad a passion for gin.'
"'Was it gin you drank to-night?'
"'Des'say.'
"'Are you not sure that it was?'
"'Mebbee.'
"'How often do you drink?'
"'Honly ven I've got the blunt to pay. Dutchmen vont trust now.'
"'Did you have any money to-night?'
"'Likely.'
"'How did you get it?'
"''Oldin' an 'orse for a cove.'
"'How much did you get for that?'
"'With that you bought gin?'
"'Prob'bly.'
"'And got drunk?'
"'Poss'bly.'
"'Thomas, where do you live?'
"'Noveres, in p'tickler.'
"'Where do you eat?'
"'Vere the wittles is.'
"'Where do you sleep?'
"'Anyveres, so that the M.P.s can't nab me.'
"'You ought to be sent to Blackwell's Island as a vagrant.'
"'Des'say.'
"'You've been there, have you not?'
"'Mebbee.'
"'Don't you know whether you've been there or not?'
"'P'r'aps.'
"'Are you certain of anything?'
"'Dun'no.'
"'Now, Thomas,' said I, in conclusion, 'I am going to let you off this time, but I hope you will keep sober in the future. Now, here is a quarter for you, to pay for your lodging to-night.'
"Thomas, the non-committalist, accepted the silver.
"I concluded to ask him one more question, in hopes to get a direct and positive answer.
"'Will you use that money to pay for a bed?' I asked.
"'Des'say,' said he, upon which I vamosed."
The Higholdboy raised himself from his official seat before the window, turned round, got on his knees in the chair, leaned his head on his hands and his arms on the chair-back, and whilst everybody was still and quiet, he called out, in a stentorian voice, "Order." The effect of this peremptory demand was to induce considerable disorder, as no one was willing to be regarded out of order, even by implication, without some foundation. Everybody talked and nobody listened, except Mr. Dropper, and it was not until Mr. Quackenbush had stuffed a ham sandwich down the throat of the Higholdboy, thrown a box of sardines at the head of Van Dam, tipped over the timid Boggs, and poured a lemonade down the throat of Johnny Cake, that they would consent to hear what he desired to say.
"Gentlemen," said Quackenbush, "that's a remarkably fine story, isn't it?"
"Des'say," said Spout.
"Werry like," responded Van Dam.
"Mebbee," replied Johnny Cake.
"Likely," remarked Boggs, as he picked himself up, preparatory to letting himself down in three chairs.
Mr. Spout left his chair, and moved to that particular locality in the apartment where the bell-pull, leading to the bar below, was situated. He gave sundry pulls in accordance with the previously-arranged system of telegraphing, and in a few minutes they were answered by a young gentleman, with a tin waiter in his hands, on which were placed divers decoctions, which stand in better repute outside of total abstinence societies than inside. Each took his mixture until it came to Johnny Cake, when the Higholdboy passed over to him a mild beverage, called a port wine sangaree. Johnny refused to accept it, and announced that he was strict in his adherence to principle—that he never indulged in anything which could intoxicate. A lemonade he would indulge in sometimes, but a port wine sangaree—never—never—NEVER.
When Johnny Cake had finished his indignant repudiation of the port wine sangaree amid the cheering of his fellow members, Mr. James George Boggs arose. He mounted a chair, and made an effort to speak. He was greeted with loud applause.
As soon as these manifestations had subsided, he said:
"Fellow-citizens (applause); I may say that it is with feelings of the most profound gratification (loud applause), that I meet, this evening, the members of the illustrious Elephant Club (continued applause), of which I am an unpretending and obscure member (renewed applause). Gentlemen, I do not like to appear as an apologist, and much less an apologist for my own shortcomings (loud and continued applause). Gentlemen, I protest against your unwarranted interference when I am trying to be funny (applause and cheers). I am a modest man, and I am unwilling to stand here to be fooled with (enthusiastic applause); Mr. Dropper, if you don't shut up your mouth, I'll knock your moustache down your throat (tremendous applause). Mr. Spout, you are the Higholdboy of this club, but I'll hit you with a brick if you don't keep better order. (Cries of "Order!" "Order!") If you'll stop your blasted noise, there will be no trouble about order. (Cries of "Go on!") Well, gentlemen, as I was saying that—that—that—where the devil did I leave off? (Applause and laughter.) There, you see that you have broken the thread of my remarks. (Cries of "Good!") Yes, it may be fun for you, but, as the boy said to the frogs, it's death to me (laughter). No, I mean as the Death said to the boys, it's frogs to—(renewed laughter). Go to thunder! I am not going to make speeches to such a set a young rascals as you are." (More applause.)
As soon as order had restored itself, the Higholdboy ordered, at his own expense, a glass of apple-jack for Mr. Boggs, with the view of expressing, through it, his full and thorough appreciation of Boggs's oratory. Mr. Boggs accepted it. Inquiry was then made of Mr. Boggs as to what he had desired to say in his speech. He stated substantially, that, having been engaged in loafing about, and doing nothing, he had had no time to prepare a contribution for the entertainment of the club.
So completely had the eloquence of Mr. Boggs riveted the attention of the club, that they had hardly made a commencement in disposing of the beverages which had been ordered; Mr. Dropper proposed that, as Johnny Cake was not to be employed in drinking, he having ignored the proffered port wine sangaree, he should occupy their time by relating his experience. To this he expressed his willingness to accede. He stated, however, that he had been on a flying visit to Illinois since his initiation into the Elephantine order, and that he was consequently unable to furnish them with any experience of an interesting nature, in New York. But some interesting incidents had occurred on a railroad train, which he had undertaken to note down, with the view of reading to the club.
Mr. Johnny Cake here produced a roll of manuscripts, which, after he had straightened up his collar, he proceeded to read. The manuscript read as follows:—
"I do not propose, now, to give you a glimpse of anything within the city. In fact, it is my intention to inflict upon you an extra-metropolitan scene, which I recently witnessed, and which, though funny, was not comfortable, and I don't care about experiencing it again."
The section of country to which your attention is called was flat—positively flat—comparatively stale, and superlatively unprofitable. It was a western prairie marsh, the home of gigantic frogs, the abiding place of water-snakes and musk-rats; where flourished in luxuriant profusion, bulrushes, water-cresses, pond-lilies, and such like amphibious and un-get-at-able vegetables. Through that particular locality a train of cars was not only seen, but heard going at 2'40" speed over a pile-bridge, made across a Michigan swamp, by driving black-oak logs end-wise into the mud. The people therein were covered with dust, as thickly as if each man had been a locomoting Pompeii, each woman a perambulating Herculaneum, and some vagrant Vesuvius had been showering ashes on them all for a month. They were lying about loose in the cars, after the ordinary fashion of people on a tedious railway journey; curled up in some such ungraceful and uneasy positions as the tired beasts of a strolling menagerie probably assume in their cages during their forced marches across the country. To carry out the parallel, the conductor came along at irregular intervals, and with deliberate and premeditated malignity, stirred up the passengers, as if they were actually animals on exhibition, and he really was their keeper, and wanted to make them growl. And this conductor, in common with conductors in general, deserves notice for the diabolical ingenuity which he displayed in forcing from his helpless victims the greatest number of growls in a limited space of time.
The cars had just left the flourishing prairie city of Scraggville, which contains seven houses and a tavern, and a ten-acre lot for a church, in the centre of which the minister holds forth now from a cedar stump. At the tavern, dinner had been served up, and the conductor, according to the usual custom, had started the train as soon, without waiting for his passengers to eat anything, as the money was collected. The population of our train, which exceeded that of the great city of Scraggville by about one hundred and seventy persons, had composed itself for a short nap, and the various individuals had settled as nearly into their old places as possible, when a man, remarkable for a particularly lofty shirt-collar, a wooden leg, and an unusual quantity of dust on the bridge of his nose, began to sing. He commenced that touching ballad, now so popular, "the affecting history of Vilikins and his Dinah." The pathos of his words, added to the unusual power of his voice, waked up his right-hand neighbor, before he had proceeded any further than to inform the listeners that,
"Vilikins vas a-valking"——
This neighbor who was so suddenly aroused, and who was distinguished by a steeple-crowned hat, did not appear to care where Vilikins was a-walking, or to take much interest in the particulars of the said walk, for he immediately turned on the other side, tied himself up in a worse knot than he was in before, and attempted to sleep again. He had in so doing shaken from the top of his mountainous hat about half a peck of cinders, directly into the mouth of the vocalist. The latter gentleman, however, seemed nothing disconcerted by this unexpected pulverulent donation, but, removing those particles which most interfered with his vocal apparatus, he proceeded with his melody. This time he progressed as far as to state emphatically that,
"Vilikins vas a-valkin' in his garding one day,"
And was about to add the explanatory notes, that it was the "back garding," when his left-hand neighbor emerged from a condition of somnolency into a state of unusual wakefulness.
The most noticeable thing about this last named individual was the optical fact that he had but one eye. And as this solitary orb was partially filled with the dust which had accumulated therein, during a ten hours' nap in a rail-car, over a sandy road, with a headwind, it might be supposed that his facilities for visual observation were somewhat abridged. This did not prove, however, to be the case, for with a single glance of this encumbered optic, he seemed to take in the character of the singer, and to make up his mind instanter that he was a good fellow and a man to be acquainted with.
Acting promptly upon this extemporaneous opinion, he held out his hand with the remark:
"I don't want to interfere with any arrangements you have made, stranger, but here's my hand, and my name's Wagstaff—let's be jolly."
The singer had by this time got to the chorus of his song, and although he took the extended hand, his only immediate reply to the observations of one-eyed Wagstaff, was "too ral li, too ral li, too ral li la," which he repeated with an extra shake on the last "la," before he condescended to answer. And even then his observation, though poetic, was not particularly coherent or relevant. It was couched in the following language.
"Jolly? yes, we'll be jolly. Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, and a jolly old soul was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl—wonder if he got it? My name is Dennis, my mother's maiden name was Moore, so that if I'd been born before she married, I'd have been a poet, which I'm sorry to say, don't think it, for I ain't. I'm glad to see you, Mr. Wagstaff, and as you say you're jolly, and propose that we shall all be jolly, perhaps you'll favor me by coming out strong on the second and fourth lines of this chorus.
"I'll do my little utmost," said Wagstaff.
And he did do his little utmost with a will, and their united voices croaked up again the first man with the steeple-crowned hat, who hadn't got his eyes fairly opened before he joined in the chorus too, and he gave his particular attention to it, and put in so many unexpected cadenzas and quavers which the composer never intended, and shakes that nobody else could put in, and trills that his companions couldn't keep up with, that he fairly astonished his hearers. And he didn't stop when they did, but kept singing "tooral li tooral," with unprecedented variations, and wouldn't hold up for Dennis to sing the verses, and wouldn't wait for Wagstaff to take breath; but kept right on, now putting a long shake on "tooral," now an unheard of trill on "looral," now coming out with redoubled force on the final "la," and then starting off again, as if his voice had run away with him and he didn't want to stop it, but was going to sing a perpetual chorus of unceasing "toorals" and never ending "loorals."
music
For fifteen minutes his harmony was allowed uninterrupted progress, but at length Wagstaff, putting his hand over his mouth, thereby smothering, in its infancy, a strain of extraordinary power, addressed him thus:
"I don't want to interfere with any of your little arrangements, stranger, but, if you don't stop that noise, I'll knock your head off. What do you mean by intruding your music upon other people's music, and thus mixing the breed? Don't you try to swallow my fist, you can't digest it."
The latter part of this address was called forth by the frantic efforts of the unknown amateur to get his mouth away from behind Wagstaff's hand, which he at length accomplished, and when he had recovered his breath he made an effort to speak. The musical fiend, however, had got too strong possession of him to give up on so short a notice, and he was unable to speak more than ten words without introducing another touch of the magical chorus. The address with which he first favored his companions ran something after the following fashion and sounded as if he might have been the identical Vilikins, unexpectedly recovered from the effects of the "cup of cold pison," or prematurely resurrected from the "same grave," wherein he had been disposed by the "cruel parient" by the side of the lamented "Dinah."
"My friends, don't interrupt the concert—too ral li, too ral li, too ral li la. I'll explain presently—with a too ral li, too ral li, too ral li la. I'm delighted to meet you—allow me to introduce myself—ral li la—I am a professional—loo ral li, loo ral li—man—ral li la—my name is Moses Overdale—with my loo ral li, loo ral li, loo ral li la."
Here he stopped, evidently by a violent exertion, and shook hands with each of the others, and afforded such a view of his personal appearance as satisfied the individual of the solitary optic, and his companion of the vegetable leg, that they had fallen in with another original—added to the fact, with which they were already well acquainted, that he had a powerful, though not very controllable voice. Other things about the newly-discovered person showed him to be a man far above, or below, or, at least, differing from, the common run of people one meets in a railroad-car. His face, had it been visible to the naked eye, through the surrounding thicket of hair, might have passed for good-looking; but the hirsute crop which flourished about his head was something really remarkable. If each hair had possessed as many roots as a scrub oak sapling, and had grown the wrong way, with the roots out, there couldn't have been more; or if each individual hair had been grafted with a score of thrifty shoots, and each of them, in turn, had given off a multitude of sandy-colored sprouts, and each separate sprout had taken an unconquerable aversion to every other sprout, and was striving to grow in an independent direction of its own, there wouldn't have been a more abundant display of hair, growing towards a greater variety of hitherto unknown points of compass. It was so long that it concealed his neck and shoulders, and you could only suppose he had a throat from the certainty that he had a mouth. And even the mouth was in its turn ornamented with an overhanging moustache, of a subdued rat-color, which also was long, running down the corners of the jaw, and joining the rest of the beard on the neck below. A shirt-collar, turned down over his coat, was dimly visible whenever the wind was strong enough to lift the superincumbent hair.
Taking into account the physical curtailments of Overdale's companions, the trio consisted of about two men and a half.
Dennis now proposed that they should go on with the song, he volunteering to sing the verses, and requesting the reinforcements to show their strength when he said, "Chorius"—the mention of music excited Overdale's harmonic devil again, and he was obliged to twist his neckerchief until he was black in the face, to choke down an embryo, "tooral," which ran to his lips before the cue came, and seemed to insist upon an immediate and stormy exit; by dint of the most suffocating exertions he succeeded in keeping back the musical torrent until the end of the verse, when it broke forth with a vengeance.
And then Wagstaff struck in, and Dennis took a long breath, and he struck in; and they waked up a couple of children, and they struck in; and Dennis put his wooden leg on the tail of a dog, and he struck in; and the locomotive put on the final touch, by shrieking with a frightful yell, as if it had boiled down into one, the squalls of eleven hundred freshly-spanked babies.
And they kept on, Dennis singing, in a masterly manner, the historical part; the charms of Dinah the barbarity of the cruel parient, the despair of Vilikins, the death and burial of the unfortunate "lovyers," their subsequent ghastly reappearance to the cruel parient, and his final remorse, had all been related; the "chorus of tender maidens" had been pathetically sung by the musical trio; the "chorus of cruel and unnatural parients," had been indignantly disposed of; the "chorus of pisoned young women," had been spasmodically executed: the "chorus of agonized young men, with an awful pain in the stummack," had been convulsively performed; the "chorus of cold corpuses," had been sepulchrally consummated; and the musical enthusiasts were laying out their most lugubrious strength on the "concluding dismal chorus of gloomy apparitions," when the concert was interrupted by the train running off the track and pitching a part of the passengers into a sand-bank on the right, throwing the remainder into frog-pond on the left, and gently depositing the engineer on a brush heap, where he was afterwards discovered with the bell-rope in his hand, and his legs covered up by the smoke-pipe.
It was soon ascertained that no very serious damage was done, beyond the demolition of the engine, which had left the rail without cause or provocation, and was now lying by the side of the road with its head in the mud, wrong end to, bottom side up, roasting itself brown, steaming itself yellow, and smoking itself black, like an insane cooking-stove turned out-doors for misbehavior.
train
Overdale got out of the sand without assistance, and, save a black eye, and a peck or two of sand and gravel in his hair, was none the worse for the accident. Wagstaff crawled out of the frog pond, looking as dripping and juicy as a he-mermaid; while Dennis, though unconscious of any painful hurt, had sustained so serious a fracture of his wooden leg, that he found it necessary to splice it with an ironwood sapling before he could navigate.
It being discovered that the danger was over, and that there was nothing more to fear, the ladies, as in duty bound, began to faint; one old lady fainted, and fell near the engine; happening, however, to sit down in a puddle of hot water, she got up quicker than she went down; young lady, rather pretty, fainted and fell into the arms of four or five gentlemen who were waiting to receive her; another young lady fainted, and didn't fall into anybody's arms, being cross-eyed and having a wart on her nose; maiden lady, ancient and fat, got near a good-looking man with a big moustache, and giving notice of her intention by a premonitory squall, shut her eyes, and fell towards moustache; she had better, however, have kept her eyes open, for moustache, seeing her coming, and making a hasty estimate of her probable weight, stepped aside, and the gentle creature landed in a clump of Canada thistles, whence she speedily recovered herself, and looked fiery indignation at moustache, who bore it like a martyr; young lady in pantalets and curls tried it, but, being inexperienced, and not having taken the precaution to pick out a soft place to fall, in case there didn't anybody catch her, she bumped her head on a stone, and got up with a black eye; jealous married lady, seeing her husband endeavoring to resuscitate a plump-looking miss, immediately extemporized a faint herself, and fell directly across the young miss aforesaid, contriving as she descended, to break her husband's spectacles by a malicious dig with her elbow; in fact the ladies all fainted at least once apiece, and those who received the most attention had an extra spasm or two before their final recovery, while the vicious old maids whom nobody cared for, invariably fell near the best-looking girls, and went into furious convulsions, so that they could kick them in the tender places without its being suspected that their intentions were not honorable.
During this characteristic female performance, our musical trio had not been idle. Dennis had been busily engaged in splicing his wooden leg. Wagstaff had seized a bucket from the disabled engine, and nearly drowned three or four unfortunate females with dirty water from the frog-pond. Overdale was attracted to the side of a blue-eyed girl, who had swooned in a clean place, behind a concealing blackberry bush, and he had rubbed the skin off her hands in his benevolent exertions to "bring her to," and had meanwhile liberally peppered her face and neck with gravel-stones and sand, from the stock which had accumulated in his hair when he was first pitched into the sand-bank.
Everybody was eventually convalescent, and likely to recover from the damage which nobody had sustained; the gentlemen had repented of the prayers which they had not said, and were now swearing ferociously about their fractured pocket-companions, and their broken cigars; and the ladies were regaling each other with multitudinous accounts of miraculous escapes from the horrible accidents which might have killed everybody, but hadn't hurt anybody. Another engine was sent for, and the cars ran to the end of the railroad, seventy miles, before the women stopped talking, or the men got anything to drink.
The musical trio, whose united chorus had been so suddenly interrupted, met at the bar of the nearest tavern for the first time since the run off; their greeting was peculiar, but characteristic; when they came in sight of each other, they didn't speak a word, until they solemnly joined hands and finished the "too ral li la," which they hadn't had the leisure to complete at the time of their sudden separation. Overdale, true to his ruling passion, wouldn't stop when the others did, but was going on with an extra "tooral li, looral li," when Wagstaff presented a glass of strong brandy and water at him; the plan succeeded; he stopped in the midst of a most astonishing shake on the first "looral," and merely remarking, "To be continued," he yielded, a passive captive to the fluid conqueror.
Subsequent conversations disclosed their future plans, and it was discovered that they were all journeying to the same place, New York city; and that their several visits had one common object, to see the mysteries of the town. An agreement, which I overheard, was quickly made, that they should remain together, and pursue, in company, their investigations.
They proceeded harmoniously on their journey, singing "Vilikins" between meals every day; and when Overdale couldn't stop in the chorus at the the proper time, Wagstaff corked him up with a corn-cob, which he carried in his pocket for that purpose.
It so happened that I continued on the same trains of cars with this interesting trio of eccentricities, until we took the steamboat at the Dutch village, where the State Legislature meets. After the last verse of their customary evening hymn had been sung, with a strong chorus, as they were about to shelve themselves in their state-rooms for the night, I heard Overdale remark to his companions:
"When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or—well, no matter where. Dennis, you see this black eye; I have to make this particular request, that if this steamboat blows up in the night, and you take a fancy to black anybody's eye, you'll pick out somebody's else."
"I didn't black your eye; what do you mean?"
Overdale explained thus: "I could a tale unfold, which would—but I won't—I'll tell you how it happened, nothing extenuate or set down aught in malice. When that locomotive ran off the track, the shock threw us both, as you are aware, about fifteen feet straight up in the air—as I was going up, you were coming down, and you were practising some kind of an original pigeon-wing with your wooden leg, and, in one of its fantastic gyrations, it came in contact with my visual apparatus, and damaged my personal beauty to the extent you see;—don't do it any more, that's all, my friend, don't do it any more."
Dennis expressed himself exceedingly sorry—"Overdale, my hairy friend," said he, "at the particular time you speak of, that leg was not under my control, and I am not accountable for the misbehavior of that leg; but I solemnly promise that, if we are blown up before morning, if I see which way you go, I will do my best to travel in a different direction."
Each of us, myself included, then went to his state-room, achieved his allotted shelf, rolled himself into so small a ball that the narrow blankets would cover him, and laid in feverish restlessness, awaiting that morning bell which should summon him to disperse himself into his pantaloons, go on deck, and catch the first glimpse of smoky Gotham, the home of the undiluted elephant.
"Hooror for Johnny," said Mr. Spout, as he rushed towards that individual to offer his congratulations. The other members followed suit, and Johnny, anticipating that he would be favored with a bear-like hug, more boisterous than pleasant, unless he acted promptly to prevent such a consummation, ran into one corner, squared off, and threatened to show an immoderate pugnacity, if they made any immoderate demonstrations of fraternal affection. The language and action of Johnny had the effect to check the enthusiasm of his friends, and they resumed their places. Johnny then came out, and made a peremptory demand of Mr. Spout that he telegraph to the saloon below for a lemonade for his (Johnny's) private consumption. Mr. Spout announced the impossibility of acceding to Johnny's demand, as there had been no signal agreed upon which should indicate to the individual below that a lemonade was wanted. Johnny said that he could not hold Mr. Spout to a strict accountability on that occasion, but if he did not arrange a signal to indicate his future wants, he should proceed to expel Mr. Spout from the club. Under existing circumstances, he should go down below and order personally a strong lemonade, to be made of considerable lemon, some sugar, and a good deal of water. Johnny disappeared through the door. He had been gone three minutes, by Quackenbush's bull's-eye silver watch, which he says keeps excellent time as long as he hires a boy to move the balance-wheel, when the Higholdboy arose, and proposed "The health of the Elephant—may his shadow never be less," which was to be drunk in silence, standing. All the members had assumed an erect position, required for the performance of this imposing ceremony, when a yell of such prodigious dimensions, entitling it to be called a roar, followed by a most extraordinary clattering outside the door, as of three persons trying to ascend abreast a flight of stairs only wide enough for one, and quarrelling about the precedence, and in the intervals of their emphatic remarks to each other uttering cries of exultant triumph, as if they had made some long-sought discovery, suddenly petrified the various members into flesh and blood statues with breeches on, and mouths open. Not long, however, did they remain thus inactive, for a mighty rush from the outside carried the door from its hinges, knocked Mr. Quackenbush, the stalwart guardian of the portal, into a far corner of the room, and disclosed to the astonished gaze of the assembled Elephantines, the forms of three individuals, to them unknown. The action of the Higholdboy, who first recovered his senses and his presence of mind, is worthy of remembrance. Keeping both eyes fixed upon one of the intruders, he deliberately drank the contents of his tumbler, and then, taking a cool aim, he threw the glass-ware at him. This act of the Higholdboy was regarded as an announcement, by implication, that crockery and glass-ware could be used on the present occasion offensively, and accordingly the other members followed the example of their chief. For a few minutes the destruction of property was great, and the more so, as, whenever a tumbler, plate, bottle, or any other similar missile fell to the floor unfractured, one of the three intruding parties would stamp on it with one of his feet, and pulverize it instanter. When the crockery was all disposed of, the assault was renewed with lemons, crackers, bologna sausages, and whatever projectiles remained, and the chairs and tables would have undoubtedly followed suit, had not the precaution previously taken, of chaining them up, precluded the possibility of their being used for this purpose. The result of this peculiar reception of the intruding parties was the temporary demolition of one, who had been hit over the head with the lemon-squeezer, and knocked down in the corner behind the chair of the Higholdboy. The second person had rolled himself up in a heap as well as he could, drew his head into his coat, and seemed resigned to whatever might be his fate. The third, however, made no resistance whatever, but rushed into one corner, turned his face to the wall, in which position he sustained for five minutes a brilliant cannonade of lemons, Boston crackers, with an occasional bomb in the shape of a nut-cracker and doughnut, for which affectionate tokens of respect he was indebted to the kindness of Van Dam, who bestowed upon him his undivided attention.
fight
At the moment when the utter defeat of the invaders was shown to be a fixed fact, Johnny Cake reëntered the room. He saw the confusion which was everywhere apparent, and his first inquiry was as to the cause. Before he had been answered his eyes caught a sight of the party in the corner, who had ventured to turn his face around.
"Here," said Johnny, "you've got one of my railroad party, whose adventures I have detailed to you this evening."
"The devil!" said Spout.
"How unfortunate!" remarked Quackenbush.
"Are you seriously injured?" asked Van Dam of the man in the corner, who was no other than Overdale.
"Nary time," was Overdale's response. "But where's Dennis?" he asked.
"Here," said Dennis, as a head was seen to protrude from itself a coat-collar, like a tormented turtle from its shell, and, after some scrambling, Mr. Damon Dennis was erect and experimenting with his wooden leg, with the view of ascertaining whether it had suffered another fracture since the railroad experience.
Wagstaff also essayed forth from behind the capacious seat of the presiding dignitary of the club, and, after shaking the wrinkles out of himself, was once more himself.
Johnny Cake here introduced himself to the parties. They remembered him as having been one of the audience which listened to their free and easy concerts whilst travelling. They were then successively introduced to the different members of the club, all of whom expressed their regrets at having received them in so informal a manner, whilst Dennis, Overdale, and Wagstaff, protested that the apologies were useless, as they should not have made such an informal call. Mr. Spout again operated the telegraph for all parties, and when they were once more seated, Johnny Cake called on their uninvited guests for an explanation as to how they had found out their location. The statement was given by all three of the parties in disconnected sentences, sometimes one talking, and sometimes all. The narrations occupied about an hour in their delivery, and were replete with interest, but too long to be incorporated verbatim into these veracious records. The facts disclosed, however, were substantially these:
After leaving the steamboat, they made their way to the Shanghae Hotel, without loss of life or further limb. Each had his carpet-bag in his hand, and having made a demonstration towards the hall-door, the attendants came out to relieve them of their loads. Unused as they were to a reception of this kind, their greeting was rather peculiar than otherwise. Overdale put his hands on his pockets, and told his gentleman to clear out. Wagstaff, with great presence of mind, knocked his down instanter. Dennis started to run, but finding his wooden leg impeded his speed, sat flat down on the sidewalk and called for a constable. Being eventually satisfied that the intentions of the individuals were honorable, they went into the house and placed their names on the register; Overdale, who did not understand this last performance, expressing his surprise that they should be required to sign a note for their board as soon as they came into the house. They were shown to separate rooms, and each proceeded to make himself as comfortable as his limited knowledge of the uses of the bedroom furniture would admit, preparatory to making his appearance in the dining-room. They were all shown this latter part of the establishment, after they had visited, arm-in-arm, the barber's shop, the ladies' parlor, and the hat-shop next door, in their vain search for something to eat.