Humorous stories; Mistaken identity -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“Nothing?” The Colonel had to get up and stand, to get room for his
amazement to expand. “_Nothing_, Washington? I ask you this: to be a
perpetual Member and the _only_ Perpetual Member of a Diplomatic Body
accredited to the greatest country on earth do you call that nothing?”
It was Washington’s turn to be amazed. He was stricken dumb; but the
wide-eyed wonder, the reverent admiration expressed in his face were
more eloquent than any words could have been. The Colonel’s wounded
spirit was healed and he resumed his seat pleased and content. He
leaned forward and said impressively:
“What was due to a man who had become forever conspicuous by an
experience without precedent in the history of the world?—a man made
permanently and diplomatically sacred, so to speak, by having been
connected, temporarily, through solicitation, with every single
diplomatic post in the roster of this government, from Envoy
Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James
all the way down to Consul to a guano rock in the Strait of
Sunda—salary payable in guano—which disappeared by volcanic convulsion
the day before they got down to my name in the list of applicants.
Certainly something august enough to be answerable to the size of this
unique and memorable experience was my due, and I got it. By the common
voice of this community, by acclamation of the people, that mighty
utterance which brushes aside laws and legislation, and from whose
decrees there is no appeal, I was named Perpetual Member of the
Diplomatic Body representing the multifarious sovereignties and
civilizations of the globe near the republican court of the United
States of America. And they brought me home with a torchlight
procession.”
“It is wonderful, Colonel, simply wonderful.”
“It’s the loftiest official position in the whole earth.”
“I should think so—and the most commanding.”
“You have named the word. Think of it. I frown, and there is war; I
smile, and contending nations lay down their arms.”
“It is awful. The responsibility, I mean.”
“It is nothing. Responsibility is no burden to me; I am used to it;
have always been used to it.”
“And the work—the work! Do you have to attend all the sittings?”
“Who, I? Does the Emperor of Russia attend the conclaves of the
governors of the provinces? He sits at home, and indicates his
pleasure.”
Washington was silent a moment, then a deep sigh escaped him.
“How proud I was an hour ago; how paltry seems my little promotion now!
Colonel, the reason I came to Washington is,—I am Congressional
Delegate from Cherokee Strip!”
The Colonel sprang to his feet and broke out with prodigious
enthusiasm:
“Give me your hand, my boy—this is immense news! I congratulate you
with all my heart. My prophecies stand confirmed. I always said it was
in you. I always said you were born for high distinction and would
achieve it. You ask Polly if I didn’t.”
Washington was dazed by this most unexpected demonstration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account