It was Story-tellers'Night at the houseboat,and the best talkers of Hades were impressed into the service.Doctor Johnson was made chairman of the evening.
"Put him in the chair,"said Raleigh."That's the only way to keep him from telling a story himself.If he starts in on a tale he'll make it a serial sure as fate,but if you make him the medium through which other story-tellers are introduced to the club he'll be finely epigrammatic.He can be very short and sharp when he's talking about somebody else.Personality is his forte.""Great scheme,"said Diogenes,who was chairman of the entertainment committee."The nights over here are long,but if Johnson started on a story they'd have to reach twice around eternity and halfway back to give him time to finish all he had to say.""He's not very witty,in my judgment,"said Carlyle,who since his arrival in the other world has manifested some jealousy of Solomon and Doctor Johnson.
"That's true enough,"said Raleigh;"but he's strong,and he's bound to say something that will put the audience in sympathy with the man that he introduces,and that's half the success of a Story-tellers'Night.I've told stories myself.If your audience doesn't sympathize with you you'd be better off at home putting the baby to bed."And so it happened.Doctor Johnson was made chairman,and the evening came.The Doctor was in great form.A list of the story-tellers had been sent him in advance,and he was prepared.The audience was about as select a one as can be found in Hades.The doors were thrown open to the friends of the members,and the smoke-furnace had been filled with a very superior quality of Arcadian mixture which Scott had brought back from a haunting-trip to the home of "The Little Minister,"at Thrums.
"Friends and fellow-spooks,"the Doctor began,when all were seated on the visionary camp-stools--which,by the way,are far superior to those in use in a world of realities,because they do not creak in the midst of a fine point demanding absolute silence for appreciation--"I do not know why I have been chosen to preside over this gathering of phantoms;it is the province of the presiding officer on occasions of this sort to say pleasant things,which he does not necessarily endorse,about the sundry persons who are to do the story-telling.Now,I suppose you all know me pretty well by this time.If there is anybody who doesn't,I'll be glad to have him presented after the formal work of the evening is over,and if Idon't like him I'll tell him so.You know that if I can be counted upon for any one thing it is candor,and if I hurt the feelings of any of these individuals whom I introduce to-night,I want them distinctly to understand that it is not because I love them less,but that I love truth more.With this--ah--blanket apology,as it were,to cover all possible emergencies that may arise during the evening,I will begin.The first speaker on the programme,I regret to observe,is my friend Goldsmith.Affairs of this kind ought to begin with a snap,and while Oliver is a most excellent writer,as a speaker he is a pebbleless Demosthenes.If I had had the arrangement of the programme I should have had Goldsmith tell his story while the rest of us were down-stairs at supper.However,we must abide by our programme,which is unconscionably long,for otherwise we will never get through it.Those of you who agree with me as to the pleasure of listening to my friend Goldsmith will do well to join me in the grill-room while he is speaking,where,I understand,there is a very fine line of punches ready to be served.Modest Noll,will you kindly inflict yourself upon the gathering,and send me word when you get through,if you ever do,so that I may return and present number two to the assembly,whoever or whatever he may be?"With these words the Doctor retired,and poor Goldsmith,pale with fear,rose up to speak.It was evident that he was quite as doubtful of his ability as a talker as was Johnson.
"I'm not much of a talker,or,as some say,speaker,"he said.
"Talking is not my forte,as Doctor Johnson has told you,and I am therefore not much at it.Speaking is not in my line.I cannot speak or talk,as it were,because I am not particularly ready at the making of a speech,due partly to the fact that I am not much of a talker anyhow,and seldom if ever speak.I will therefore not bore you by attempting to speak,since a speech by one who like myself is,as you are possibly aware,not a fluent nor indeed in any sense an eloquent speaker,is apt to be a bore to those who will be kind enough to listen to my remarks,but will read instead the first five chapters of the Vicar of Wakefield.""Who suggested any such night as this,anyhow?"growled Carlyle.
"Five chapters of the Vicar of Wakefield for a starter!Lord save us,we'll need a Vicar of Sleepfield if he's allowed to do this!""I move we adjourn,"said Darwin.
"Can't something be done to keep these younger members quiet?"asked Solomon,frowning upon Carlyle and Darwin.
"Yes,"said Douglas Jerrold."Let Goldsmith go on.He'll have them asleep in ten minutes."Meanwhile,Goldsmith was plodding earnestly through his stint,utterly and happily oblivious of the effect he was having upon his audience.
"This is awful,"whispered Wellington to Bonaparte.
"Worse than Waterloo,"replied the ex-Emperor,with a grin;"but we can stop it in a minute.Artemas Ward told me once how a camp-meeting he attended in the West broke up to go outside and see a dog-fight.Can't you and I pretend to quarrel?A personal assault by you on me will wake these people up and discombobulate Goldsmith.
Say the word--only don't hit too hard."
"I'm with you,"said Wellington.Whereupon,with a great show of heat,he roared out,"You?Never!I'm more afraid of a boy with a bean-snapper that I ever was of you!"and followed up his remark by pulling Bonaparte's camp-chair from under him,and letting the conqueror of Austerlitz fall to the floor with a thud which I have since heard described as dull and sickening.
