The History and Records of the Elephant Club by Doesticks and Underhill (leveled readers txt) 📖
- Author: Doesticks and Underhill
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At last, the Elephants concluded to return to the city. They piled themselves into the vehicles, and by means of sundry persuasive arguments, the horses were induced to reach the livery-stable, rather warm, inside of two hours.
After the party had stowed away divers beefsteaks and onions, and other articles of food, they ascended into the club-room. Here they found Overdale and Wagstaff, both asleep. They were awakened, and, in a peremptory manner, the High[Pg 145]oldboy demanded to know why they had not been on hand in the morning at the place of rendezvous, to witness the sable performance in the rural districts. The answers of the two offending individuals differed. Wagstaff assigned as a reason that he was asleep, whereas Overdale stated that he wasn't awake. The Higholdboy announced himself satisfied with the answers.
[Pg 146] "There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood leads on——"
WITH the facts contained in our last chapter, the members of the Elephantine order may be said to have fairly begun their herculean labors. Certain it is that all the spare time they could command was devoted to an investigation into the particular speciality in zoölogical science, for which the club had been organized; and certain it is that the prospect of some rare contribution from members at the next regular meeting was good.
The meeting night arrived at length, the members were all present, and punctual to the hour.[Pg 147]
The Higholdboy had brought with him a pair of boxing-gloves, which he announced were to be used in this wise: He was determined to keep order in the meetings, and this, too, even if he had to resort to severe means to do so. But actuated by the same feelings of benevolence which animated the legislators who caused the passage of laws to prevent cruelty to animals, he did not want to do physical injury to the refractory members of the club. Therefore, he had brought the aforesaid boxing-gloves, so that when he knocked a member down, he wouldn't either draw blood or give him a black eye.
This humane considerateness on the part of Mr. Spout was warmly commended by the brethren, and Mr. Quackenbush, in behalf of the club,
Resolved, that the Higholdboy is a model presiding officer.
This resolution in behalf of the club was adopted by Mr. Quackenbush.
Overdale here arose and said that he fully coincided with the spirit of the resolution; he had a proposition to make, however, which was to order up some cold corned beef, celery, mustard, rolls, and butter, provided he would consent to let the members keep order after their own fashion.
This appeal to Mr. Spout's feelings was irresistible,[Pg 148] and he gave his full consent, saying that that was all he had contemplated under any circumstances, and if they could ring in Overdale for the feed, it was so much gained. It was accordingly ordered that Overdale give his order.
Mr. Boggs said that boxing-gloves forcibly reminded him of some experience he had had several years previously. Though a person by no means thin, and notwithstanding the fact that he had been for years troubled with chronic good health, yet, from reading at that time various physiological works, he had become convinced, that from the want of proper physical training, his dissolution might be considered near at hand, unless he took immediate measures to save his precious life by means of active exercise. He accordingly visited the gymnasiums, but the idea of putting himself into such fantastic shapes as he saw young men doing, was to him not to be thought of. Further, he was decidedly opposed to the idea of making himself the laughing-stock of a set of young rascals by his awkward efforts in his incipient progress. Whilst he was yet undecided, a friend suggested to him that he procure a couple of pairs of boxing-gloves, and practise with them. "Having purchased the gloves," continued Mr. Boggs, "I was still at a loss to know how to proceed. I didn't[Pg 149] want to practice with anybody, because I knew that my awkwardness would make mirth for them, and to this I was decidedly opposed. Under these circumstances I resorted to other means. In the garret of the house in which I lived was a mammoth stove—in fact, gentlemen, a stove which I could strike and not knock over, which would not laugh at me in my attacks, and therefore a stove with which I made up my mind to have a few rounds each day.
"The next day I went up into the garret. There stood the sable champion of heavy weight, and, for the first time in my life, I stripped myself of my coat, to fight without being appalled. The stove loomed up in giant proportions; I stood before it, and squared off as well as I knew how. I imagined I saw the stove's right fist coming at my left eye. I parried off the blow, which, without doubt, would have been aimed at me, had the stove had a right fist as I imagined, and with my right fist I planted a stunner in the place where his bread-basket should have been. The result was a powerful reaction, and I found myself sprawling on the floor. I ascertained that I was not damaged, and wisely determined then that I would not strike such powerful blows in the future.
"I again squared off, and began putting in the[Pg 150] blows in rapid succession, whilst I managed successfully to keep my adversary from hitting me in even one of the many attempts which I imagined he made. I kept up the practice about an hour.
"The next day I resumed my practice, and I kept it up for several weeks, when I fancied that I was sufficiently expert to 'travel on my muscle.'
"To be sure, I had fought an inanimate object, which could not strike; still, in the tussles I had imagined the stove striking at me from all conceivable directions, and I had not only been able to guard-off these imaginary blows, but I had shown the stove that I could put in a few astonishers between times.
"I was ready now for practice with a living adversary. But who was he to be? that was the question. I was still unwilling to call in any of my acquaintances, as I might possibly after all be found veni, vidi, vici, as we say in the classics, which, when translated into English, means weighed in the balance and found short (suppressed snickers).
"One day, as I was cogitating upon the matter in front of the house, a big nigger, full six feet in height, came along. He looked as if he wanted a job, and with a good deal of trepidation, I ventured to ask him if I was right in supposing him anxious to make a half-dollar. I found him to be an eager candidate[Pg 151] for any position, from a cashier of a bogus bank up to a boot-black. I took him up in the garret and disclosed to him the nature of my desires, and took occasion to inform him that I would give him a half-dollar for two hours services per day, and a quarter in addition never to say a word about the matter; to this he assented, and I told him to put on the gloves. He took the dirty pair out of respect to me (not taking into consideration the probable consequence to me, in case of his succeeding in putting in a few licks), and I took the clean pair.
"We squared off, and occupied a minute or two in preliminary practice; I felt fully confident that I could manage him quite as easily as I had the stove, and after telling him to do his best, I proceeded to give him a poke in his breast. We gradually warmed in the work, the blows passed more frequently, and as we proceeded I became conscious of the fact that I managed to put in almost one blow to his three. I then made my calculations to give the nigger a regular rib riser, and just as I was about to consummate this well digested plan, I became apprised that something important had happened; what it was I was unable for a minute or two to decide; several thoughts passed rapidly through my mind. One idea I had was, that a bombshell from Sebastopol had exploded in the identical premises which I[Pg 152] was then occupying. But this gave way to another, which was that New York had been tipped over into Buttermilk Channel; then again, I thought that somebody was using my head for a rattle-box; several other theories suggested themselves to me, all of which were equally reasonable. But at any-rate the cause of the peculiar sensations was soon solved. The nigger had given me a clip, covering the lower part of my proboscis, my mouth, and chin, had set my nose bleeding, and cut my lips somewhat against my teeth, and the blood was flowing profusely.
"I looked around for the nigger, but he had disappeared; the probability is that he thought he had been the cause of my death, and fearing an indictment for murder, had vamosed without stopping to get his fifty cents.
"I picked myself up as well as I could, and travelled down stairs to my room. A look into the mirror presented to my view an interesting picture of my self; not only were my nose and lips swollen, but the gloves which the nigger had on, being blackened with the stove-blacking, had communicated the metallic polish to my face and shirt, so that[Pg 153] both were of a beautiful sheet-iron color. I kept my room for ten days; sent word to the landlady that I had the measles, and requested that nobody be admitted to my room but the servant who brought me my food, and him I feed liberally to keep mum. When I got well enough to go out, I loaned my boxing gloves to a young gentleman, with my mind fully made up that if he never offered to return them, I shouldn't send a constable after him, nor ask him for them. I have not indulged in any amusements of the kind since, and I am glad to announce that I am fully satisfied with my past experience in the study of the science."
Mr. Boggs's narrative was loudly applauded. He, however, protested against the civility.
Mr. Van Dam characterized it as a valuable contribution, which called forth from Mr. Boggs the question, "What the devil he meant by calling it a contribution; he had no idea of the kind."
The members insisted that, however he might regard it, it certainly was a valuable contribution to their entertainment, and would grace the archives of the club.
Mr. Boggs stated that had he entertained the most distant idea he was doing anything of any value to anybody, he should have never been able[Pg 154] to say a word. If it was a contribution he was glad of it.
The Higholdboy then called upon the other members for their contributions to science.
Mr. Quackenbush responded, and after drinking some Croton water diluted with gin, he began:
"Last evening I started out on a cruise, with the view of seeing the elephant on the streets by gas-light. I saw the identical elephant to be seen every evening, and with which you are all familiar, and I began to think about eleven o'clock that I should be compelled to retire to rest without having seen anything worthy of note. To be sure, I had seen a fight between a nigger and Irishman, which, after the first round, was finished by each party running away as fast as his legs could carry him, thereby tacitly acknowledging that he was beaten; but what was this? Every one of you have been in fights, and of course it would be unnatural to suppose that a description of a scrimmage of brief duration between an Irishman and a nigger would be particularly interesting. I was about to turn my footsteps homeward, when the movements of an individual attracted my attention. The person in question was a gentleman of about forty-five years of age. His height was fully six feet, his form was very spare, his face thin, his
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