was deemed expedient to select an individual of superior physical
strength to attend to the door, lest some intruding outsider might
sometime interrupt the deliberations of the honorable quadrupedal order.
Mr. Quackenbush elected himself to this dignified and honorable office,
and, under the belief that his brawny arms were eminently suited to do
duty in case of the irruption of sacrilegious outsiders upon the
sanctified premises, all the other members acquiesced in his promotion.
If any undesirable person presented himself for admission, he was to
inform him of the secrecy of the convention. Should the outsider
persevere, he was first to expostulate with him, and endeavor to
persuade him to go peaceably away. If all milder means should prove
unavailing, he was first to black both of his eyes with a pewter mug,
taking care to do it impartially and symmetrically, that the
discoloration of one optic should not in the least exceed that of the
other; he was then mildly to knock him down with a chair, pitch him
gently, head first, down both flights of stairs into the street, and
then, having filled his boots full of gravel, and put a brick in his
mouth, he was to leave him; but on no account was he to deal harshly
with such offender, unless he chose to do so on his own responsibility,
or was specially authorized by a unanimous vote of all the members
awake, in which case he might act his own pleasure. He solemnly bound
himself, in case he should at any time be overcome by fatigue, or any
other potent cause, that he would go to sleep immediately before the
threshold, in order to prevent any animated worldling from penetrating
into the secret den, and spy out the mystic doings of the elephants,
without forcing an entrance over his prostrate body.
The arrangements being now complete, a solemn convocation of the
honorable body was held, and a quadrupedal quorum being present, after a
smoky and juicy deliberation of some seven hours, the Higholdboy, Mr.
John Spout, unanimously _Resolved_:
1. That the club proceed to hunt the long-nosed animal.
2. In a body.
3. To-morrow night.
To this series of resolutions each of the other members acceded. The
result of this bold determination will be fully detailed in another
chapter.
[Illustration]
FIRST DISCOVERIES OF THE CLUB.
"He who fights and runs away,
Will live--"
A. NONYMOUS.
Pursuant to the resolutions unanimously adopted on the evening before,
the Elephant Club met to proceed, under the direction of some
experienced hunter, to scrutinize their ponderous game. Being duly
equipped with all the arms and ammunition required for an expedition of
so perilous a nature, they sallied forth. They dragged no heavy,
ponderous artillery, they wore no clanking swords, they rallied under no
silken banner, and marched to no inspiriting music; but they tramped
along, their only rallying-flag being a yellow handkerchief round the
hat of Mr. Myndert Van Dam, who had thus protected his "Cady" from any
injury from a sudden shower; their only martial music was the shrill
pipe of Mr. James George Boggs, who whistled "Pop goes the Weasel," and
for arms each one had a hickory cane, and in the breast pocket of his
overcoat, a single "pocket-pistol," loaded, but not dangerous. Mr.
Remington Dropper had assumed the leadership, and was to conduct the
party on their cruise.
[Illustration]
They had proceeded but a short distance when Mr. Boggs called out to the
party to observe the motions of a queer-looking character, who was
approaching at a distance of a half block. He was stepping on the edge
of the sidewalk with his gaze fixed upon the gutter, and in apparent
unconsciousness of the existence of anything but himself. He was lank,
lean, and sallow. His clothes were quite dilapidated, his beard and hair
long. A smile on his face seemed to indicate his entire satisfaction
with himself. He was a marked character, and after a moment's sight at
the individual, inquiries were made of Mr. Boggs as to who he was.
"That is more than I can say," was Boggs's response. "I have known him
by sight for years, and he has always appeared the same. He belongs to a
class of beings in New York, a few specimens of which are familiar to
those who frequent the principal thoroughfares, and are known by the
ornithological appellation of "gutter-snipes." I have often talked with
him, but he knows nothing of his own history; or, if he does, chooses
not to reveal it. He is a monomaniac, but perfectly harmless, and calls
himself Nicholas Quail. I have learned from other sources a few facts of
his history. He sleeps anywhere and everywhere, and eats in the same
localities. Nobody ever harms him, all being familiar with his whims. As
far as I can learn, he was formerly a raftsman. He has never in his life
owned real estate enough to form the site for a hen-coop, nor timber
sufficient to build it. His personal property could be crowded into a
small pocket-handkerchief; but let him get four inches of whisky in him,
and he fancies he has such boundless and illimitable wealth, that in
comparison, the treasures of Aladdin, provided by the accommodating
slave of the lamp, would be but small change. He walks about the streets
viewing what he terms the improvements he is making; he gives all sorts
of absurd directions to workmen as to how he desires the work to be
done, much to their amusement. But here he is, now; if he is tight we'll
have some sport."
As the personage approached, Boggs accosted him, when the following
dialogue took place.
"So Nicholas," said Boggs, "you've come back, have you? How is the
financial department at present?"
Nick looked up and smiled.
"The fact is," said he, "I've just been buying all the grain in
Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, and Indiana for $7 a bushel, and I am rather
short for small change, but if you want a hundred thousand or so, just
send a cart round to my office. Would you prefer having it in quarter
eagles or twenty dollar pieces?"
"Well, Nick, I don't care to borrow at present, but a boy says you've
been drunk. How is it?"
"What boy is it?"
"Your boy in your counting-room--the urchin who runs on errands for you,
smokes your stubs, and pockets the small change."
"Now, hadn't he ought to be ashamed of himself, the red-haired devil,
for getting Old Nick into such a scrape by his drunken lies? Haven't I
made him presents enough? It was only last week that I gave him a house
in Thirty-second street, and a splendid mansion on the North River; and
on the 4th of July he had fourteen thousand dollars, all in pennies, to
buy fire-crackers and soda-water with; and yet he goes to you and lies,
and says that I've been drunk. Don't you believe the lying cub; he's got
a spite agin me, because last night I wouldn't give him the Erie
Railroad to bet on poker; but I couldn't do it, General; I seen the
cards was agin him; the other feller held four kings, and he hadn't
nothin' in the world but three high-heeled jacks and a pair of fours."
"I do believe you were drunk," said Boggs, "and if you ever get hauled
up before the justice you will have to pay ten dollars, and if you have
not that decimal amount handy, you had better entrust it to the boy's
keeping, to have it ready in case of such an emergency."
Nick felt in his pockets, and with a puzzled air remarked:
"I haven't got the money here, but I'll give you a check on the Nassau
Bank for a thousand, and you can give me the change; or I'll give you a
deed of Stewart's, or a mortgage lien on the Astor House."
"Shan't do it, shan't do it, Old Nick; and I'm afraid you'll have to go
to Blackwell's Island, sure."
"There's that infernal island again," said Nick; "if I'd ever thought it
would come to this, I never'd have given that little piece of property
to the city; but I'll buy it back next week, and use it hereafter for a
cabbage garden; see if I don't."
By this time the Elephants seemed to disposed to go, but Nick spied on
the shirt-front of Mr. John Spout a diamond pin, which seemed to take
his fancy. He offered in vain a block of stores in Pearl street, the
Custom-House, the Assay-Office, the Metropolitan Hotel and
three-quarters of the steamer Atlantic, and to throw into the bargain
Staten Island and Brooklyn City; but it was no use, the party took their
leave, and Nick was disconsolate.
Passing up Broadway, their attention was attracted by one of those
full-length basswood statues of impossible-looking men, holding an
impracticable pistol in his hand, at an angle which never could be
achieved by a live man with the usual allowance of bones, but which
defiant figure was evidently intended to be suggestive of a
shooting-gallery in the rear.
[Illustration]
Mr. John Spout, who was in a philosophic mood, remarked that it was a
curious study to observe the various abortive efforts of aspiring
carpenters to represent the human form divine, in the three-cornered
wooden men, which stand for "pistol-galleries;" and the inexplicable
Turks, the unheard of Scotchmen, and the Indians of every possible and
impossible tribe, which are supposed to hint "tobacco and cigars."
The ambitious carpenter first hews out a distorted caricature of a man,
which he passes over to the painters to be embellished. By the time the
figure has survived the last operation, it might certainly be
worshipped without transgressing any scriptural injunction, for it
certainly looks like nothing in "the heavens above, the earth below, or
the waters under the earth." It is, however, an easy matter to
distinguish the Highlanders from the Turks, by the fact, that the calves
of their legs are larger around than their waists, and they are dressed
in petticoats and plaid stockings; the Turks and Indians, however, being
of the same color, might easily be confounded, were it not for the
inexplicable circumstance that the former are always squatting down,
while the latter are invariably standing up; they are all, however,
remarkable for the unstable material of which their countenances are
manufactured; after one has been exposed to the boys and the weather for
about a fortnight, his nose will disappear, his lips come up a minus
quantity, the top of his head be knocked off, and a minute's scrutiny
will generally disclose the presence of innumerable gimlet-holes in his
eyes. The boys, in their desire to comprehend perfectly the internal
economy of these human libels, not unfrequently carry their anatomical
investigations to the extent of cutting off a leg or two, and amputating
one or more arms, or cutting out three or four ribs with a buck-saw or a
broad-axe. Indeed, there is one unfortunate wooden Indian, of some
fossil and unknown tribe, on exhibition in front of a snuff-shop in the
Bowery, who has not only lost both legs, one arm, and his stomach, but
has actually endured the amputation of the head and neck, and bears a
staff stuck in the hole where his spine ought to be, and upon a flag is
inscribed the heartless sentence, "Mrs. Miller's Fine Cut--for
particulars inquire within."
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 zoological 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 _nargille_ 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 _nargilles_, 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 _nargilles_ 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
_nargille_, 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.
[Illustration:]
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 _a 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.
[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration]
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.