Humorous stories; Politicians -- United States -- Fiction
"Oh, I'm all right," replied the Colonel, suspicion lurking in his
tones. "I know what you think, Senator, but I am not. No, siree! I
_have_ had three or four small ones, but I am not 'lit' by a jugful! The
idea! Drunk on four high-balls! Why, they just clear my brain--drive the
fog out. Maybe it's the Scotch, maybe the soda. A fine combination, the
high-ball. I am as stupid as an owl when I am cold sober, but when I
drink, I soar! I feel like a lark with nothing between myself and the
sun except a little fresh air and exercise. Oh, there's nothing the
matter with me; any one can see that.
"It's funny how small this world is, and how time flies. I supposed you
all noticed the tall, bald-headed man with the spectacles who ran up and
hugged me to-day. Ain't he the ugly one? His ma certainly did hand his
pa a lemon when he was born. Why, if I had been a long-lost brother he
could not have been gladder to see me. Well, I was glad to see him, too,
but the sight of him called up memories at once humiliating and
smile-provoking. Senator, may I trouble you to depress the business end
of that syphon? Thank you. Now, that fellow's name is Seymour--that's
why he wears specs, I suppose--and he rattles around in the chair of
Applied Science at Jay College, this State. Not much of an institution,
and still less of a job, I imagine, and poor Seymour's salary quite in
keeping. If there ever was any one deserving a Carnegie medal, Seymour
is the chap. He studied medicine once, and graduated high up, but he
never practised his profession! That's saving lives for you. Can you
beat it?
"Well, Harry was a protege, or something of the sort, of our late friend
Thurlow. And, as I said, I beheld his honest, glowing countenance with
mixed feelings. But it is a long story--a long story----" and the
Colonel paused as if seeking encouragement to proceed.
It was forthcoming.
"We would like very much to hear it," said Senator Wendell gravely;
"that is, of course, if it involves no sacrifice of your feelings. We
are all friends here, and will go at once into executive session. Let
all who have a story to tell, an anecdote to relate, or a joke to
perpetrate, feel free to do so. The galleries shall be cleared, and
reporters and the public excluded--metaphorically speaking," he added
hastily, turning to the newspaper men, who wore a pained expression,
"metaphorically speaking, of course." The skies journalistic cleared at
once, and then Colonel Manysnifters, a born diplomat, whispered to the
waiting porter, who nodded knowingly, and disappeared.
"Senator, I thank you. You relieve the situation. I am a modest man,
sir, and hesitate to talk about myself even among friends; but since you
all insist, there is nothing for me to do but yield as gracefully as I
may--and as a yielder I glitter in the front rank. My experience,
gentlemen, was a peculiar one, and I think it will hold you for a while.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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