American fiction -- 19th century; Mines and mineral resources -- Fiction
In this capital, on this languid midsummer day, in an upper room of one
of its second-rate hotels, the Honorable Pratt C. Gashwiler sat at
his writing-table. There are certain large, fleshy men with whom the
omission of even a necktie or collar has all the effect of an indecent
exposure. The Hon. Mr. Gashwiler, in his trousers and shirt, was a sight
to be avoided by the modest eye. There were such palpable suggestions of
vast extents of unctuous flesh in the slight glimpse offered by his open
throat that his dishabille should have been as private as his business.
Nevertheless, when there was a knock at his door he unhesitatingly said,
“Come in!”--pushing away a goblet crowned with a certain aromatic herb
with his right hand, while he drew towards him with his left a few proof
slips of his forthcoming speech. The Gashwiler brow became, as it were,
intelligently abstracted.
The intruder regarded Gashwiler with a glance of familiar recognition
from his right eye, while his left took in a rapid survey of the papers
on the table, and gleamed sardonically.
“You are at work, I see,” he said apologetically.
“Yes,” replied the Congressman, with an air of perfunctory
weariness,--“one of my speeches. Those d----d printers make such a mess
of it; I suppose I don't write a very fine hand.”
If the gifted Gashwiler had added that he did not write a very
intelligent hand, or a very grammatical hand, and that his spelling was
faulty, he would have been truthful, although the copy and proof before
him might not have borne him out. The near fact was that the speech
was composed and written by one Expectant Dobbs, a poor retainer of
Gashwiler, and the honorable member's labor as a proof-reader was
confined to the introduction of such words as “anarchy,” “oligarchy,”
“satrap,” “palladium,” and “Argus-eyed” in the proof, with little
relevancy as to position or place, and no perceptible effect as to
argument.
The stranger saw all this with his wicked left eye, but continued to
beam mildly with his right. Removing the coat and waistcoat of Gashwiler
from a chair, he drew it towards the table, pushing aside a portly,
loud-ticking watch,--the very image of Gashwiler,--that lay beside him,
and, resting his elbows on the proofs, said:
“Well?”
“Have you anything new?” asked the parliamentary Gashwiler.
“Much! a woman!” replied the stranger.
The astute Gashwiler, waiting further information, concluded to receive
this fact gaily and gallantly. “A woman?--my dear Mr. Wiles,--of course!
The dear creatures,” he continued, with a fat, offensive chuckle,
“somehow are always making their charming presence felt. Ha! ha! A man,
sir, in public life becomes accustomed to that sort of thing, and
knows when he must be agreeable,--agreeable, sir, but firm! I've had my
experience, sir,--my OWN experience,”--and the Congressman leaned back
in his chair, not unlike a robust St. Anthony who had withstood one
temptation to thrive on another.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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