The History and Records of the Elephant Club

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.'

"'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."

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."

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."