Part 27 (1/2)
The Doctor immediately stood up. The psychological question, if it be such, is here presented whether _standing_ is the more eligible position for the severe mental effort indicated above. Waiving all discussion upon this interesting point, the fact is here faithfully chronicled that the Doctor stood up. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, but standing majestically in the middle of the room, and presenting in some of its characteristics the beauty and symmetry of an inverted L, the Doctor began, ”S-h-o-o-g ----” whereupon the little schoolmaster burst into loud laughing.
Solemnly warning him against the repet.i.tion of such conduct, the arbiter reminded him that such manifestations in the very presence of the ”empire,” were in some countries punished with immediate death, and again significantly warned him against its recurrence.
At the same time the Doctor was reminded that he had not yet completed the spelling of the word. The Doctor replied, ”If it is all the same to you, Mr. Empire, I believe I will begin all over again.” Permission being granted, the spelling was resumed: ”S-h-o-o-g-o-r.” To this the arbiter responded, ”You have spelled the word correctly, Doctor,” and _immediately handed him the stakes._
One of the interesting events occurring during my residence in Metamora, was a noted temperance revival under the auspices of ”the Grand Worthy Deputy” of a well-known temperance organization. A lodge was duly organized, and a profound interest aroused in the good work. During the visit of the excellent lady who bore with becoming modesty the somewhat formidable t.i.tle above given, the interest deepened, meetings were of nightly occurrence, and large numbers were gathered into the fold. For many days ordinary pursuits were suspended, and the grand cause was the only and all-absorbing topic of conversation.
Chief among the initiated was our old friend Doctor John. His conversion created a profound sensation, and it veritably seemed for a time as though a permanent breach had been effected in the ramparts of Satan. It was even boasted that the Presbyterian clergyman, one saloon keeper, and the writer of these truthful annals were, as Judge Tipton would say, ”substantially” the only adherents remaining to His Satanic Majesty. The pressure was, however, soon irresistible, and the writer, deserting his sometime a.s.sociates, at length pa.s.sed over to the _un_silent majority.
The Doctor was the bearer of my pet.i.tion, and in due time and as the sequel will show, for only a short time, I was in good and regular standing. As explanatory of the sudden termination of what might under happier auspices have proved an eminently useful career, it may be casually mentioned that upon the writer's first introduction into the lodge, in answer to the official inquiry solemnly propounded, ”Why do you seek admission into our honorable order?” he unwittingly replied, _”Because Doctor John joined.”_
This was for the moment permitted to pa.s.s, and the exercises of the session reached the high-water mark of entertainment. At some time during the evening, by way of ”exemplifying the work,” Doctor John had for the second time taken the solemn vow henceforth and forever to abstain from the use of all fluids of alcoholic, vinous, or fermented character.
The hour for separation at length drew nigh. Thus far all had gone merry as a marriage bell. All signs betokened fair weather.
Barring the temporary commotion occasioned by the uncanonical reply of the writer above given, not a ripple had appeared upon the surface. It was at length announced that this was the last evening that the Grand Worthy Deputy could be with us, as she was to leave for her distant home by the stage coach in the early morning.
Splendidly set off in her great robes of office, her farewell words of instruction, encouragement, and admonition, were then most tenderly spoken. Before p.r.o.nouncing the final farewell--”that word which makes us linger”--she calmly remarked that this would be her last opportunity to expound any const.i.tutional question that might hereafter arise pertaining to the well-being of the order, and that she would gladly answer any inquiry that any brother or sister about the lodge might propose. Her seat was then resumed, and silence for the time reigned supreme. At length, amid stillness that could no longer be endured, she arose and advancing to the front of the platform, repeated, in manner more solemn than before, the invitation above given. Still there was no response. It all seemed formidable and afar off. In the hope that he might in some measure dispel the embarra.s.sment, the unworthy chronicler of these important events, from his humble place in the northwest corner of the lodge, for the first and last time addressed the chair. Permission being graciously given him to proceed, he candidly admitted that he had no const.i.tutional question himself to propound, but that Brother John was in grave doubt touching a question upon which he would be glad to have the opinion of the chair.
”I understand,” continued the speaker, ”from the nature of the pledge that if any brother, or sister even for that matter, should partake of liquors alcoholic, vinous, or fermented, he or she would be liable to expulsion from the order. Am I correct?”
”That is certainly correct, Brother Stevenson,” was the prompt reply in no uncertain tone.
”I so understand it,” continued the speaker, ”and so does Brother John.
What he seeks to know is this: If in an unguarded moment he should hearken to the voice of the tempter, and so far forget his solemn vows as to partake of alcoholic, vinous, or fermented liquors, and be expelled therefor, would he thereby be wholly beyond the pale of the lodge, or would he _by virtue of his second obligation taken this night,_ have another chance, and still retain his members.h.i.+p in the order?”
The official answer, in tone no less uncertain than before, was instantly given.
”No, sir, if Brother John _or you either,_ should drink one drop of the liquors mentioned and be expelled therefor, you would both be helplessly beyond the pale of the lodge, even though you had _both taken the obligation a thousand times!”_
As the ominous applause which followed died away, Brother John, half arising in his seat, vehemently exclaimed,
”Mrs. Wors.h.i.+pful Master, _I never told him to ask no such d.a.m.n fool question!”_
XXV A QUESTION OF AVAILABILITY
A POLITICAL BANQUET IN ATLANTA, GA.--GENERAL GORDON PROPOSED ”THE DEMOCRACY OF ILLINOIS”--THE WRITER'S RESPONSE--A DESIRE IN ILLINOIS TO NOMINATE THE HON. DAVID DAVIS FOR PRESIDENT.
About the year of grace 1889, a number of distinguished statesmen were invited to attend a political banquet to be given by the local Democratic a.s.sociation of the splendid city of Atlanta, Georgia.
Among the guests were Representative Flower of New York and General Collins of Ma.s.sachusetts; the chief guest of the occasion was the Hon. David B. Hill, then the Governor of New York. The banquet was under the immediate auspices of the lamented Gordon, and of Grady of glorious memory. The board literally groaned under the rarest viands, and Southern hospitality was at its zenith. It was, all in all, an occasion to live in memory. I was not one of the invited guests of the committee, but being in a neighboring city was invited by Mr. Grady to be present.
At the conclusion of the feast, a toast was proposed to ”The Gallant Democracy of New York.” Gla.s.ses were touched and the enthusiasm was unbounded. The toast was of course responded to by the distinguished Governor of the Empire State. He was at his best.
His speech, splendid in thought and diction, was heard with breathless interest.
The keynote was struck, and speech after speech followed in the proper vein. There was no discordant note, the burden of every speech being the gallant Democracy and splendid statesmans.h.i.+p of the great State of New York.
When the distinguished guests had all spoken, the master of ceremonies, General Gordon, proposed a toast to ”The Democracy of Illinois,” and called upon me to respond. I confessed that I was only an average Democrat from Illinois; that way out there we were content to be of the rank and file, and of course to follow the splendid leaders.h.i.+p and the gallant Democracy of which we had heard so much. To vote for a New York candidate had by long usage become a fixed habit with us, in fact, we would hardly know how to go about voting for a candidate from any other State; and I then related an incident on the question of supporting the ticket, which I thought might be to the point.
In 1872, in the portion of Illinois in which I live, there was an earnest desire on the part of conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans, to elect the Hon. David Davis to the Presidency.
He had been a Whig in early life, brought up in the school of Webster and Clay, and was later the devoted personal and political friend of Mr. Lincoln. An earnest Union man during the war, he had at its close favored the prompt restoration to the Southern people of all their rights under the Const.i.tution. As a judge of the Supreme Court, he had rendered a decision in which human life was involved, in which he had declared the supremacy of the Federal Const.i.tution _in war as well as in peace._ Believing that he would prove an acceptable candidate, I had gladly joined the movement to secure his nomination at the now historic convention which met at Cincinnati in May, 1872. For many weeks prior to the meeting of that convention, there was little talked of in central Illinois but the nomination of Judge Davis for President.