The History and Records of the Elephant ClubDoesticks, Q. K. Philander
General
The History and Records of the Elephant Club
Doesticks, Q. K. Philander
American wit and humor
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 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 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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