The History and Records of the Elephant Club by Doesticks and Underhill (android based ebook reader TXT) 📗

wagons, horses, mules, cotton bales, boxes, furniture, drivers, policemen, passengers, pedestrians, &c. A wagonload of dirt on our port side—wagon-driver unsophisticated; unused to driving in New York. In advance a cart having two bales of hay on board. Our horses, having nothing else to do, make efforts to get at the hay. Our driver again accommodating. He gets down and unchecks the horses. Horses proceed to make inroads upon property not belonging to the omnibus company. Carman discovers the larceny. Indignant carman. Hits our horses over the[Pg 194] head with the butt end of his whip. Reciprocal indignation. Our driver gives carman a cut across his proboscis with a long lash.

"Our progress continues.

"Fat gentleman impatient. Reasserts his previously-expressed conviction, that the stage is an imposition: says he'll get out. Driver insists on payment. Fat gentleman passes up a quarter. Driver passes him back a ten-cent piece and eight cents. Fat gentleman insists that he is swindled to the extent of one cent, which he demands. Driver very obliging, and 'don't he wish he may get it.' Fat gentleman gets out, but finds himself completely surrounded by vehicles, and without a possibility of being able to reach the curb-stone in safety, concludes to enter the stage again. Driver refuses to open the door. Fat gentleman demands to be admitted. Driver says he'll see him blowed first. Fat gentleman frantic, but driver incorrigible. At last fat gentleman gets on his hands and knees, and, after crawling under a team of horses and the tails of two carts, reaches the sidewalk. Again[Pg 195] moving. Irish female with native infant pulls the strap. Driver accommodating. Female inquires if this is a Bowery stage. Driver says no. Female insists upon getting out. Driver insists, with equal warmth, that, as a prior condition, she must disgorge a sixpence. Female indisposed to comply. Old maid with the poodle dog gives the strap three convulsive jerks. 'Whoa-'p.' Old maid says that native infant, belonging to female from Ireland, has the ship fever. Female from Ireland indignantly denies the statement, and says that it is only the itch. Old maid swoons. Poodle dog barks at all the passengers generally, and the female from Ireland particularly. Dropsical gentleman puts some smelling-salts under the nose of old maid. Happy result. Old maid revives, and asks if anybody beside herself was injured by the explosion. Sight Fulton street off our starboard bow. Enter Fifth Avenue and Amity street stages, R. 1st Entrance. Exit Irish porter with a load of band-boxes, L. 1st Entrance, in time to save his bacon and band-boxes. New feature coming up Fulton street from the East River—'The Sour Krout Guards, Captain Wilhelm Stein,' in return from target excursion. Still another feature coming up Fulton street from North River—'The Patrick Gaffney Grenadiers, Captain Timothy[Pg 196] Leahey,' on a return from target excursion. Two companies approach one another. Menacing looks on the part of the Sour Krout Guards. Bellicose attitude of the Gaffney Grenadiers. Belligerent manifestation of the Sour Krouts; corporal of the Gaffneys throws a brick at the Sour Krouts. Sour Krouts boiling over with indignation, make a demonstration. Both companies unused to the management of firelocks, but accustomed to war and carnage. They lay down their arms and take up their fists. General, promiscuous, and miscellaneous shoulder-hitting by the strength of both companies. Enter third party. Mad bull rushes down Broadway and pitches into the hottest of the fight, with horns down and tail up. Sour Krouts and Gaffneys in consternation fly from the scene of the struggle in all directions. Mad bull makes a descent into a mock auction shop. Stool pigeons and auctioneer all knocked down without a bidder. Sudden fall in pinchbeck watches. Bull stands for a moment in a contemplative mood over the devastation, and then walks away with a dignified air. Barnum's in sight. Lady and three children get inside. Female from Ireland with native infant concludes to pay the sixpence and get out. Astor House in the usual place. Barclay street in the distance. By way of variety,[Pg 197] a company turn into Broadway, 'The Tugmutton Terribles, Captain Frightful Buster,' in a return from a target excursion at Hoboken. The captain elevated, lieutenants inebriated, privates intoxicated, the nigger target-bearer drunk—effect of having eaten too many ham sandwiches. Stage again immobile. Two Hoosiers get inside, and ask the driver to stop at the St. Nicholas Tavern. Funeral procession coming down Broadway. Forty-nine carriages. Learned that the remains of Dennis Hooligan, the keeper of a corner grocery in Hammersley street, were being conveyed to their last resting-place. Just as the hearse reaches Anthony street a ponderous cart crosses Broadway. Wheels fifteen feet in diameter. Steamboat boiler suspended under the axletree. Majestic vehicle fetches up all standing against a cart loaded with flour. Fall in breadstuffs. Prodigal distribution of flour. Hearse and funeral procession in close proximity.

"Vehicles accumulate. Great commotion among drivers. Procession mixed up in an indiscriminate verbal war. At last hearse manages to go down towards the Five Points. The procession succeeds in getting out by turning in the other direction, except the rear portion, which, to my knowledge, never got out. Once more under way, and making[Pg 198] good time. Man with a gold-headed cane stops the stage, and passes up a five-cent piece. Driver swears, and advises him to ride in the cars hereafter. Driver suggests that he is full ten minutes behind time, and is bound to make it up. Lays on the lash, much to the surprise of the animals. Driver pulls up in front of the St. Nicholas Hotel, and announces the spot through the money-hole. Nobody essays to pass up any fare. Driver repeats the announcement. Nobody moves. Driver inquires, impatiently, if there ain't 'two fellers inside wot wanted to git out at the St. Nicholas Hotel.' Still no reply. Again the inquiry. One of the Hoosiers said he asked him to 'stop at the St. Nicholas tarvern, 'cause why, 'cause he wanted to see it. He'd seen it enough; it was a purty nice tarvern, he reckoned, and he might drive on.' Driver gave the horses an extra cut, and we move again. Asthmatic party pulls the strap. After feeling in all of his pockets for two minutes, informs the driver that he left his porte-monnaie in his other pantaloons. Driver says the story won't go down—that the game is too old. Party tries to make his exit, but the door won't open, the driver holding hard on the strap. Asthmatic party threatens to horsewhip driver. Driver says, 'any time when conwenyent he hoped he'll make the trial.' Driver[Pg 199] about to start, when asthmatic party pulls out his jack-knife and cuts the strap. Asthmatic party triumphs. Driver, frantic with rage, throws an apple at asthmatic party, and hits asthmatic party on his knowledge-box. Asthmatic party falls, and upsets an apple-stand. Celtic female, the proprietor of the apple-stand, hits asthmatic party with a brick. Both parties close in, and fight amid the ruins of the apple-stand. Driver starts the horses, but looks around to watch the fight. Horses sheer off to the starboard, and the hub of the hind wheel breaks down a lamp-post. Driver observes policeman approaching at a rapid speed. No time to survey the ruins, so he applies the lash, and we move away from the scene of the mishap at a speed ominous of swift destruction to horse-shoes and wagon-tires. Female, with three children, calls out to stop, and passes up a three-dollar bill. Driver inquires if she hasn't got any change. Female gives a negative response. Driver gives change in small pieces, retaining as fare the moderate sum of seventy-five cents for a woman and three children. Woman attempts to count the change. Driver sings out to 'Hurry up—behind time—can't wait all day.' Female bewildered, leaves with her children, and driver whips up the horses, remarking that he[Pg 200] 'guesses she'll learn, after a while, not to pass up bills for stage-fare.' Soon reach Union Square. Tell the driver I'll get off. Offer him a sixpence. Driver says, 'he'll not take a cent; that if there ever was a nout-'n'-outer, I'm one, and he hopes that it won't be the last time we'll meet; and if he only had time, he wouldn't let me off without treatin' me.' I thanked him for his good opinion, shook hands, and jumped off the box.

"Thus, gentlemen," concluded Mr. Dropper, "ends the history of my voyage on an omnibus."

Mr. Quackenbush arose, and stated that he regarded Mr. Dropper's paper as a valuable addition to the historical writings of the country. He therefore moved that a gold medal be prepared by a committee of the club, of which the Higholdboy should not be an ex-officio member, for presentation to Mr. Dropper. Mr. Dropper to pay the whole expense of procuring the same, and to stand a champagne supper for the honor conferred on him.

The motion was carried with only one dissenting voice—that of Mr. Dropper, who said he didn't want any such expensive and equivocal honors.

The presiding officer informed Mr. Dropper that he was fined three cents for contempt of club.

Over an hour was now passed in a state of inac[Pg 201]tivity. Some of the members slept and some didn't. As a means of inducing excitement of some kind, a member signalized the institution on the first floor for pork and beans for the entire crowd. This was promptly answered, and for a time the club had enough to engage its attention. After the aforesaid luxuries had been duly disposed of, the members proceeded to take seats, lie on the floor, prop themselves against the wall, and hang themselves up on a peg, as best suited their independent fancies. The presiding officer announced that the rules on this occasion would be enforced strictly. Accordingly, each individual present began to do exactly what pleased him, without any regard to the comfort, convenience, or personal predilections of anybody else. The Higholdboy first secured the left boot of every member present. After pulling a boot on each leg of the table, he put one on each of his hands, like a gauntlet, and then laid the seventh on the table. The object of Mr. Spout, in pursuing this eccentric course of conduct, soon became apparent, when he laid himself on the table, using the aforesaid solitary boot as a pillow, it being manifest that[Pg 202] he desired to preclude the possibility of an adjournment during the nap, and inasmuch as it would be found inconvenient for the members to leave the premises with but a single pedal covering, and as it would be impossible for a member to secure the other, without awakening the most venerable and exceedingly somnolent Higholdboy, it will be apparent to the credulous reader that Mr. Spout's idea was quite ingenious.

Under these circumstances, each member determined to make himself as comfortable as the time, the place, and the conveniences would admit of.

Mr. Boggs was lying flat on his back, trying to drink a hot whisky-punch without breaking the tumbler, spilling the liquor, or getting the sugar inside his whiskers. Mr. Overdale was learning "juggling without a master," and was endeavoring to spin plates on his whalebone cane. In striving to acquire this elegant accomplishment, he had broken all the dishes in the premises. As he varied his plate-spinning endeavors with repeated trials at tossing the cups and balls, for which purpose he used the tumblers and coffee-cups, and as, whenever he caught one cup, he dropped two, and stepped on the fragments, the work of demolition went bravely on.[Pg 203]

Mr. Van Dam amused himself by blacking the faces of all the pictures in the room with charcoal. Dennis employed himself for an hour and a half in whittling off with a jack-knife one leg of every chair in the apartment, so as to make it four inches shorter than the rest. Wagstaff collected all the books he could find, and piled them into a shaky pyramid, which he was preparing to push over with a broomstick upon the head of the unconscious Higholdboy.

Quackenbush had not been idle; taking advantage of the drowsiness of his superior officer, he had sewed the bottoms of that gentleman's pantaloons together with a waxed end, after which he made a moustache on himself with burned cork, and then painted the left side of his face in three-cornered patches like a sleepy harlequin, dyed his shirt-collar scarlet with red ink, and went to sleep in the corner to await the result, having first tripped up Mr. Overdale, who, by way of a new variation in his juggling performances, was now trying to balance the poker on his nose, while he held a rocking-chair in one hand and a hat-box full of oyster shells in the other.