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. 32-1/2,
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 13-1/4'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 24-3/8
was coming. The boys looked back, and Hose 24-3/8 _was_ coming. Hose
24-3/8 came alongside. Hose 24-3/8 tried to go by. Hose 24-3/8 was
evidently striving to get to the fire in advance of her betters, but
Hose 24-3/8 couldn't do it--for, at this interesting juncture, 32-1/2'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
32-1/2 were caught up instantly by 24-3/8, and those who got away from
24-3/8, were seized upon by 32-1/2. 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.
[Illustration]
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 24-3/8 into 32-1/2'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 32-1/2 and 24-3/8 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.
FIRST EVENING WITH THE CLUB.
"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.'
"'Likely.'
"'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.'
[Illustration]
"'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?'
"'A shillin.'
"'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."