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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Told by the
Colonel
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Told by the Colonel

Author: W. L. Alden

Illustrator: Hal Hurst

Richard Jack

Release date: July 7, 2022 [eBook #68468]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: J. Selwin Tait & Sons, 1883

Credits: Richard Hulse and the Online Distributed Proofreading

Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced
from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD BY

THE COLONEL ***
 Transcriber’s Note: Readers may wish to be warned that the Colonel’s tales, and the
accompanying illustrations, contain outdated racial stereotyping and language.

TOLD BY THE COLONEL.

BY
W. L. ALDEN,
Author of “A Lost Soul,” “Adventures of Jimmy Brown,”
“Trying to Find Europe,” etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY
RICHARD JACK AND HAL HURST.

NEW YORK
J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS

Copyright, 1893, by
J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS
 CONTENTS.
PAGE
An Ornithological Romance, 1
Jewseppy, 12
That Little Frenchman, 26
Thompson’s Tombstone, 38
A Union Meeting, 52
A Clerical Romance, 63
A Mystery, 80
My Brother Elijah, 93
The St. Bernard Myth, 108
A Matrimonial Romance, 124
Hoskins’ Pets, 139
The Cat’s Revenge, 153
Silver-Plated, 168
 TOLD BY THE COLONEL.

AN ORNITHOLOGICAL ROMANCE.
Four Americans were sitting in the smoking-room of a Paris hotel.
One of them was a grizzled, middle-aged man, who sat silent and
apart from the others and consumed his heavy black cigar with a
somewhat gloomy air. The other three were briskly talking. They had
been three days in Paris, and had visited the Moulin Rouge, the
tomb of Napoleon, and the sewers, and naturally felt that they were
thoroughly acquainted with the French capital, the French
government, and the French people. They were unanimously of the
opinion that Paris was in all things fifty years behind the age, and at
least sixty behind Chicago. There was nothing fit to eat, drink, or
smoke in Paris. The French railway carriages were wretched and
afforded no facilities for burning travellers in case of an accident. The
morals of French society—as studied at the Moulin Rouge—were
utterly corrupt, owing possibly to that absence of free trade in wives
and husbands which a liberal system of divorce permits. The French
people did not understand English, which was alone sufficient to
prove them unfit for self-government, and their preference for heavy
five-franc pieces when they might have adopted soft and greasy
dollar bills showed their incurable lack of cleanliness.
Suddenly the silent man touched the bell and summoned a waiter.
“Waiter,” he said, as that functionary entered the room, “bring me
an owl.”
 “If you please, sir?” suggested the waiter, timidly.
“I said, bring me an owl! If you pretend to talk English you ought to
understand that.”
“Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. How would you please to have the nowl?”
“Never you mind. You go and bring me an owl, and don’t be too
long about it.”
The waiter was gone some little time, and, then returning, said, “I
am very sorry, sir, but we cannot give you a nowl to-night. The
barkeeper is out of one of the materials for making nowls. But I can
bring you a very nice cocktail.”
“Never mind,” replied the American. “That’ll do. You can go now.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said one of the three anatomizers of the
French people, speaking with that air of addressing a vast popular
assemblage which is so characteristic of dignified American
conversationalists. “Would you do me the favor to tell me and these
gentlemen why you ordered an owl?”
“I don’t mind telling you,” was the answer, “but I can’t very well do
it without telling you a story first.”
“All right, Colonel. Give us the story, by all means.”
The elderly American leaned back in his chair searching for
inspiration with his gaze fixed on the chandelier. He rolled his cigar
lightly from one corner of his mouth to the other and back again, and
presently began:
“A parrot, gentlemen, is the meanest of all creation. People who
are acquainted with parrots, and I don’t know that you are, generally
admit that there is nothing that can make a parrot ashamed of
himself. Now this is a mistake, for I’ve seen a parrot made ashamed
of himself, and he was the most conceited parrot that was ever seen
outside of Congress. It happened in this way.
“I came home one day and found a parrot in the house. My
daughter Mamie had bought him from a sailor who was tramping
through the town. Said he had been shipwrecked, and he and the
parrot were the only persons saved. He had made up his mind never
to part with that bird, but he was so anxious to get to the town where
his mother lived that he would sell him for a dollar. So Mamie she
buys him, and hangs him up in the parlor and waits for him to talk.

“ASKING THE CAT IF HE HAD EVER SEEN A MOUSE.”

 “It turned out that the parrot couldn’t talk anything but Spanish,
and very little of that. And he wouldn’t learn a word of English,
though my daughter worked over him as if he had been a whole
Sunday-school. But one day he all at once began to teach himself
English. Invented a sort of Ollendorff way of studying, perhaps
because he had heard Mamie studying French that way. He’d begin
by saying, ‘Does Polly want a cracker?’ and then he’d go on and ring
the changes. For example, just to give you an idea of the system,
he’d say, ‘Does Polly want the lead cracker of the plumber or the
gold cracker of the candlestick maker?’ and then he’d answer, ‘No,
Polly does not want the lead cracker of the plumber nor the gold
cracker of the candlestick maker, but the large steel cracker of the
blacksmith.’ He used to study in this way three hours every morning
and three every afternoon, and never stop for Sundays, being, as I
suppose, a Roman Catholic, and not a Sabbath-keeping bird. I never
saw a bird so bent on learning a language as this one was, and he
fetched it. In three months’ time that parrot could talk English as well
as you or I, and a blamed sight better than that waiter who pretends
that he talks English. The trouble was the parrot would talk all the
time when he was not asleep. My wife is no slouch at talking, but I’ve
seen her burst into tears and say, ‘It’s no use, I can’t get in a word
edgewise.’ And no more could she. That bird was just talking us
deaf, dumb, and blind. The cat, he gave it up at an early stage of the
proceedings. The parrot was so personal in his remarks—asking the
cat if he had ever seen a mouse in his whole life, and wanting to
know who it was that helped him to paint the back fence red the
other night, till the cat, after cursing till all was blue, went out of the
house and never showed up again. He hadn’t the slightest regard for
anybody’s feelings, that bird hadn’t. No parrot ever has.
“He wasn’t content with talking three-fourths of the time, but he
had a habit of thinking out loud which was far worse than his
conversation. For instance, when young Jones called of an evening
on my daughter, the parrot would say, ‘Well, I suppose that young
idiot will stay till midnight, and keep the whole house awake as
usual.’ Or when the Unitarian minister came to see my wife the
parrot would just as likely as not remark, ‘Why don’t he hire a hall if
he must preach, instead of coming here and wearing out the
furniture?’ Nobody would believe that the parrot made these remarks
of his own accord, but insisted that we must have taught them to
him. Naturally, folks didn’t like this sort of thing, and after a while
hardly anybody came inside our front door.
“And then that bird developed a habit of bragging that was simply
disgusting. He would sit up by the hour and brag about his
superiority to other birds, and the beauty of his feathers, and his
cage, and the gorgeousness of the parlor, and the general
meanness of everything except himself and his possessions. He
made me so tired that I sometimes wished I were deaf. You see, it
was the infernal ignorance of the bird that aggravated me. He didn’t
know a thing of the world outside of our parlor; and yet he’d brag and
brag till you couldn’t rest.

“THE PARROT BEGAN BY TRYING TO DAZZLE THE OWL WITH HIS

CONVERSATION, BUT IT WOULDN’T WORK.”

“You may ask why didn’t we kill him, or sell him, or give him to the
missionaries, or something of that sort. Well, Mamie, she said it
would be the next thing to murder if we were to wring his neck; and
that selling him would be about the same as the slave-trade. She
wouldn’t let me take the first step toward getting rid of the parrot, and
the prospect was that he’d drive us clean out of the house.
“One day a man who had had considerable experience of parrots
happened to come in, and when I complained of the bird he said,
‘Why don’t you get an owl? You get an owl and hang him up close to
that parrot’s cage, and in about two days you’ll find that your bird’s
dead sick of unprofitable conversation.’
“Well, I got a small owl and put him in a cage close to the parrot’s
cage. The parrot began by trying to dazzle the owl with his
conversation, but it wouldn’t work. The owl sat and looked at the
parrot just as solemn as a minister whose salary has been cut down,
and after a while the parrot tried him with Spanish. It wasn’t of any
use. Not a word would the owl let on to understand. Then the parrot
tried bragging, and laid himself out to make the owl believe that of all
the parrots in existence he was the ablest. But he couldn’t turn a
feather of the owl. That noble bird sat silent as the grave, and looked
at the parrot as if to say, ‘This is indeed a melancholy exhibition of
imbecility!’ Well, before night that parrot was so ashamed of himself
that he closed for repairs, and from that day forth he never spoke an
unnecessary word. Such, gentlemen, is the influence of example
even on the worst of birds.”
The American lit a fresh cigar, and pulling his hat over his eyes,
fell into profound meditation. His three auditors made no comment
on his story, and did not repeat the inquiry why he had asked the
waiter for an owl. They smoked in silence for some moments, and
then one of them invited the other two to step over to Henry’s and
take something—an invitation which they promptly accepted, and the
smoking-room knew them no more that night.
 JEWSEPPY.
“Yes, sir!” said the Colonel. “Being an American, I’m naturally in
favor of elevating the oppressed and down-trodden, provided, of
course, they live in other countries. All Americans are in favor of
Home Rule for Ireland, because it would elevate the Irish masses
and keep them at home; but if I were living in Ireland, perhaps I
might prefer elevating Russian Jews or Bulgarian Christians. You
see, the trouble with elevating the oppressed at home is that the
moment you get them elevated they begin to oppress you. There is
no better fellow in the world than the Irishman, so long as you govern
him; but when he undertakes to govern you it’s time to look out for
daybreak to westward. You see, we’ve been there and know all
about it.
“Did I ever tell you about Jewseppy? He was an organ-grinder,
and, take him by and large, he was the best organ-grinder I ever
met. He could throw an amount of expression into ‘Annie Rooney,’
or, it might be, ‘The Old Folks at Home,’ that would make the
strongest men weep and heave anything at him that they could lay
their hands to. He wasn’t a Jew, as you might suppose from his
name, but only an Italian—‘Jewseppy’ being what the Italians would
probably call a Christian name if they were Christians. I knew him
when I lived in Oshkosh, some twenty years ago. My daughter, who
had studied Italian, used to talk to him in his native language; that is,
she would ask him if he was cold, or hungry, or ashamed, or sleepy,
as the books direct, but as he never answered in the way laid down
in the books, my daughter couldn’t understand a word he said, and
so the conversation would begin to flag. I used to talk to him in
English, which he could speak middling well, and I found him cranky,
but intelligent.
“He was a little, wizened, half-starved-looking man, and if he had
only worn shabby black clothes, you would have taken him for a
millionaire’s confidential clerk, he was so miserable in appearance.
He had two crazes—one was for monkeys, who were, he said,
precisely like men, only they had four hands and tails, which they
could use as lassoes, all of which were in the nature of modern
improvements, and showed that they were an advance on the
original pattern of men. His other craze was his sympathy for the
oppressed. He wanted to liberate everybody, including convicts, and
have every one made rich by law and allowed to do anything he
might want to do. He was what you would call an Anarchist to-day,
only he didn’t believe in disseminating his views by dynamite.
 “SHE WOULD ASK HIM IF HE WAS COLD OR HUNGRY.”

“He had a monkey that died of consumption, and the way that
Jewseppy grieved for the monkey would have touched the heart of
an old-fashioned Calvinist, let alone a heart of ordinary stone. For
nearly a month he wandered around without his organ, occasionally
doing odd jobs of work, which made most people think that he was
going out of his mind. But one day a menagerie came to town, and in
the menagerie was what the show-bill called a gorilla. It wasn’t a
genuine gorilla, as Professor Amariah G. Twitchell, of our university,
proved after the menagerie men had refused to give him and his
family free tickets. However, it was an animal to that effect, and it
would probably have made a great success, for our public, though
critical, is quick to recognize real merit, if it wasn’t that the beast was
very sick. This was Jewseppy’s chance, and he went for it as if he
had been a born speculator. He offered to buy the gorilla for two
dollars, and the menagerie men, thinking the animal was as good as
dead, were glad to get rid of it, and calculated that Jewseppy would
never get the worth of the smallest fraction of his two dollars. There
is where they got left, for Jewseppy knew more about monkeys than
any man living, and could cure any sick monkey that called him in,
provided, of course, the disease was one which medical science
could collar. In the course of a month he got the gorilla thoroughly
repaired, and was giving him lessons in the theory and practice of
organ-grinding.
“The gorilla didn’t take to the work kindly, which, Jewseppy said,
was only another proof of his grand intellect, but Jewseppy trained
him so well that it was not long before he could take the animal with
him when he went out with the organ, and have him pass the plate.
The gorilla always had a line round his waist, and Jewseppy held the
end of it, and sort of telegraphed to him through it when he wanted
him to come back to the organ. Then, too, he had a big whip, and he
had to use it on the gorilla pretty often. Occasionally he had to knock
the animal over the head with the butt end of the whip-handle,
especially when he was playing something on the organ that the
gorilla didn’t like, such as ‘Marching through Georgia,’ for instance.
The gorilla was a great success as a plate-passer, for all the men
were anxious to see the animal, and all the women were afraid not to
give something when the beast put the plate under their noses. You
see, he was as strong as two or three men, and his arms were as
long as the whole of his body, not to mention that his face was a
deep blue, all of which helped to make him the most persuasive
beast that ever took up a collection.
 “Jewseppy had so much to say to me about the gorilla’s wonderful
intelligence that he made me tired, and one day I asked him if he
thought it was consistent with his principles to keep the animal in
slavery. ‘You say he is all the same as a man,’ said I. ‘Then why
don’t you give him a show? You keep him oppressed and down-
trodden the whole time. Why don’t you let him grind the organ for a
while, and take up the collection yourself? Turn about is fair play, and
I can’t see why the gorilla shouldn’t have his turn at the easy end of
the business.’ The idea seemed to strike Jewseppy where he lived.
He was a consistent idiot. I’ll give him credit for that. He wasn’t ready
to throw over his theories every time he found they didn’t pay. Now
that I had pointed out to him his duty toward the gorilla, he was
disposed to do it.
 “THE GORILLA WAS A GREAT SUCCESS.”

“You see, he reasoned that while it would only be doing justice to

the beast to change places with him, it would probably increase the
receipts. When a man can do his duty and make money by it his
path is middling plain; and after Jewseppy had thought it over he
saw that he must do justice to the gorilla without delay.
“It didn’t take the beast long to learn the higher branches of hand-
organing.
“He saw the advantages of putting the money in his own pocket
instead of collecting it and handing it over to Jewseppy, and he
grasped the idea that when he was pushing the little cart that carried
the organ and turning the handle, he was holding a much better
place in the community than when he was dancing and begging at
the end of a rope. I thought, a day or two after I had talked to
Jewseppy, that there was considerable uproar in town, but I didn’t
investigate it until toward evening, when there seemed to be a sort of
riot or temperance meeting, or something of the kind, in front of my
house, and I went out to see about it. There were nearly two
thousand people there watching Jewseppy and his gorilla, or rather
the gorilla and his Jewseppy. The little man had been elevating the
oppressed with great success. A long rope was tied around his
waist, and he was trotting around among the people, taking up the
collection and dancing between times.
“The gorilla was wearing Jewseppy’s coat, and was grinding away
at the organ with one hand and holding Jewseppy’s rope with the
other. Every few minutes he would haul in the rope, hand over hand,
empty all the money out of Jewseppy’s pocket, and start him out
again. If the man stopped to speak to anybody for a moment the
gorilla would haul him in and give him a taste of the whip, and if he
didn’t collect enough money to suit the gorilla’s idea, the animal
would hold him out at arm’s length with one hand and lay into him
with the other till the crowd were driven wild with delight. Nothing
could induce them to think that Jewseppy was in earnest when he
begged them to protect him. They supposed it was all a part of the
play, and the more he implored them to set him free, the more they
laughed and said that ‘thish yer Eyetalian was a bang-up actor.’
“As soon as Jewseppy saw me he began to tell me of his
sufferings. His story lacked continuity, as you might say, for he would
no sooner get started in his narrative than the gorilla would jerk the
rope as a reminder to him to attend strictly to business if he wanted
to succeed in his profession. Jewseppy said that as soon as he tied
the rope around his waist and put the handle of the organ in the
gorilla’s hand the beast saw his chance and proceeded to take
advantage of it. He had already knocked the man down twice with
the handle of the whip, and had lashed him till he was black and
blue, besides keeping him at work since seven o’clock that morning
without anything to eat or drink.